When Nightmares Are A Good Thing
by Rhiane Raine
Summary: Harry's summer begins with horrible thoughts and nightmares from the events of his fifth year that plague him. Harry decides to do all that he can to prepare himself but what happens when he discovers unknown blood relations?
1. Harry's Odd Dream

**_Disclaimer: J.K. owns it all_ **

Beta Read By Ootp-Rules

When Nightmares Are A Good Thing  
  
Chapter 1: Harry's Odd Dream

It had been the hottest day of the summer, so far on Privet Drive. The neighbors had seemed to forget all about competing for the best looking lawn of the summer in the latest wave of lethargicness. As the last light of the day faded, one by one the neat windows of Little Whinging began to emit bright yellow lights, illuminating the prim and proper looking streets and houses. At number four, Privet Drive a boy could be spotted staring out of one the windows on the second floor.

Harry Potter was a skinny, black haired boy of almost sixteen. His eyes were colored a startlingly bright shade of rhiane green, and he had grown quite a bit since his last summer at his Aunt and Uncle's house. He had always been the shortest of his age, during his fifteen years of life. His friend Ron's height had always seemed to be a target that was far out of Harry's reach, but he was now nearing a respectable height that would allow him to now look Ron in the face when speaking to him, rather than his neck or shoulders. Of course, Harry hadn't noticed this. He had never paid that much attention to his appearance and most certainly not after what had happened last June.

Even though Harry had only been at Privet Drive for a week, he had received as many as fifteen letters from his friends and Order members. He hadn't bothered to open any of them, though. Somehow he just didn't feel that anything that had been written in them would help. He had opened the first few, only to find lame words encouraging him to get over his godfather's death and to stop blaming himself for it. The actual wording had of course been much more subtle, but Harry felt he had gotten the gist of it all just the same. After finding the third letter to be just like the first two, he had decided to simply stop reading them. Nothing important would be relayed by owl post anyway.

No matter how hard Harry had tried, he couldn't stop missing Sirius and he was convinced that it _was _indeed his fault that he was gone. Being truthful to himself, Harry realized he found savage pleasure in being depressed. He didn't want to be happy. He had rightfully earned this pain. All he wanted now was for Sirius to be alive.

Ever since his death, Harry had been propelled into nightmares of that day in the Department of Mysteries, when Sirius had been led to his doom. Those weren't the only nightmares he had; Harry had also repeatedly visited the graveyard where Voldemort had been resurrected, had half-visions of the Halloween night that his parents had been murdered, and many other dreams in which his friends and various members of the Order blamed him for their own horrific deaths. It made Harry dread going to sleep; something he used to enjoy so much when he was younger.

Harry sighed as he plopped down on his bed. He pulled his shirt over his head and untidily folded it to set on the battered nightstand by his bed, then took off his glasses and placed them on top of his shirt. Next he picked up his wand and held it tightly in his hand, for he had lately become accustomed to sleeping with it at close hand. Harry felt he should be wary of another unexpected trick that Voldemort might try on him in his dreams, though he had no idea what they might be. He could use every bit of extra safety he got his hands on, after all.

Harry lay down without bothering to get under the covers, he knew they would either soon end up causing him to sweat more than usual from his nightmare, or they would be twisted and tangled around his legs, efficiently immobilizing him.

Tired as he was from his last two sleepless nights, Harry was finding it hard to drop off. He felt his eyes starting to sting as he thought about watching Sirius die in his dreams again. The dream was always the same one, everything would happen the way it had on the day that Sirius had died, exactly as Harry remembered it.

He blinked furiously against the haziness that was clouding his eyes. Feeling sorry for himself had never helped to change a thing. The Dursleys had taught him that properly. But thinking of Sirius always seemed to trigger something within him that made his stomach tingle unpleasantly and his throat obstruct.

After about twenty minutes, Harry finally drifted to sleep out of sheer fatigue from his attempts to stay awake and stave off all unwanted thoughts and emotions. His world seemed to be spinning as the air surrounding him dissolved into white fog.

Harry cast a nervous glance around to take in his new dream-like state. Everything seemed so blurry, almost as if he had forgotten to put on his glasses before walking through an open field in the midst of a snowstorm. Harry shook his head bewilderedly, vaguely wondering why he was there.

"Is someone there?"

Harry's ears perked up, having heard another human voice calling out. He looked around trying to determine where the voice had come from. It had sounded oddly familiar. Then he saw it. A faint shape was visible about fifty feet away, so Harry decided to walk closer.

"Who are you?"

Yes, he definitely knew that voice, but he still couldn't quite place to whom it belonged to. As he continued to walk closer to it, some of the fuzziness seemed to be ebbing away from the form. Harry took in the size of the person that was now approximately fifteen feet away. He was positive that it was a male, because of his voice and build. The man appeared to have dark hair and a very lean stature.

Harry choked as realization dawned on him. "Sirius?"

"Harry!" Sirius sputtered back.

Harry wasted no time in running to his godfather. For once, Harry was in a dream with his father's best friend, who was not falling through a veil, blaming Harry for his death, nor was he having his soul sucked out by a dementor. Harry felt elated.

Yet, as Sirius made a motion to hug Harry, they were both dismayed to find that his arms went right through Harry's body.

_'Is he a ghost?'_ Harry wondered to himself.

Harry looked up to tell Sirius that he missed him but found himself being jerked backwards, away from his godfather and out of the dream completely.

He awoke in his bed at Privet Drive, sweaty and disappointed. Harry sighed. He had gotten to see Sirius without being blamed for what he thought was obviously his own fault, but he hadn't even gotten to apologize for it. The dream had felt so real...

_'Oh well,'_ Harry thought. At least he had gotten a good night's sleep out of it.


	2. Getting Organized

**_Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns it all_ **

**When Nightmares Are A Good Thing**

**Chapter 2: Getting Organized**

There was a loud noise emitted from the room below Harry's bedroom. He assumed that Uncle Vernon had just left for work. He was silently thankful for that. Uncle Vernon didn't care much for his nightmares- often he would scream in his sleep- and was slowly losing his grip, even though the Order's threat hung in the air like a putrid smell.

It had been a while since he hadslept without a nightmare, save the dream that he had just woken up from. Harry hadn't quite classified that one yet. Glancing at his clock he saw that it was nine in the morning.

Harry thought to himself while lying back down on his bed. It was breakfast time, butdidnot feel inclinedto eat lately. He just didn't seem to have an appetite anymore. His stomach churned at the thought. In all actuality, it had been four days since his last real meal. Harry could almost hear the fussing Molly Weasley would give him if she knew.

With that thought, Harry stretched and walked over to his desk. He reached in the rickety drawer and pulled out a sheet of parchment. He looked over what was written on it.

_Dear All, I am fine. Hope you all are best! _

Harry

The very first thing Harry had done upon returning to his bedroom for the holidays, was write about thirty letters to the order stating that he was fine. There was hardly any chance that Harry would have anything different to say every three days.

With a closer look at the letter, Harry decided that it was too similar to the last letter he sent. He picked up his quill and carefully added a postscript to the end that stated:

_P.S. Please tell Ron that Dudley actually gained weight on that diet of his! His physician was NOT happy! Nor were my Aunt and Uncle, they went to extreme measures while he was away at school this year._

"Hedwig, I have a job for you. Take this to you-know-where and give to either Professor Lupin or Mrs. Weasley, please?" Harry persuaded. He assumed that they would be the most worried about him, next to Ron and Hermione that is.

Hedwig gave a hoot of approval as he attached the letter to her leg. He opened the window for her, and watched as she flew out. That letter should buy him two and a half more days before he had to send another. Harry sighed. He hadn't really wanted to add that post script but felt that it would be worse trying to deal with the lot of them if he didn't start adding a bit more personal information into his letters.

After Hedwig had gone, Harry turned his attention back to the dream he had just awoken from. It had been a very odd experience indeed.

He plopped down in the chair by his tattered old 'desk.' The photo album that Hagrid had given him in his first year was lying on his desk open to the page of his parents wedding. Sirius was smiling up at him from the page. Harry instantly felt his gloom returning at the sight. As he surveyed the picture for what had to be the millionth time that week, Harry hastily shut the album.

Harry thought it wasn't fair that Sirius was gone leaving Harry in pure anguish. If it weren't for the stupid prophesy, Sirius would still be here! But no, that wasn't right. It was _his_ fault. HE had been the one to try and be the hero. HE was the one Sirius had come to save. He led his Godfather into danger. If only he had been strong enough to take charge of the situation by himself. Voldemort was his complexity, not Dumbledore's, not Snape's, Sirius', his parent's, or the Order's. It was his, Harry Potter's. He had to be the one to salvage what was left of the world. He still didn't like it, though. If given a choice, Harry would have chosen to grow up a normal boy, and have a normal life with parents and the other people that loved him.

Shaking his head, Harry banged his it on the desk. The truth of the matter was, he wasn't normal. He had no parents, and the people that 'loved' him were in jeopardy because of him. His life would always be broken, and he would always feel this pain as strongly as he felt it now. Why force someone, who had a full life and was happy, to try and do the job that was appointed to him? That would only spread more pain among the world. No. That would not do. Harry would just have to step up and accept his job. He would be the selfish brat he was (according to Professor Snape) and take all the unpleasantness from the world for himself. That would ensure that nobody else would have to go through what he himself had been through. Voldemort had to be dealt with.

Harry would do anything and everything he had to do to fulfill his destiny. He would sacrifice what little of his life he had left, for the people of the world, as well as the handful of people that he cared about. Ron, Hermione, Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and Slytherins, the D.A., his professors, Hagrid, the Order, the entire family of Weasleys, Albus Dumbledore, Remus Lupin, Sirius, his parents... There were so many that he wanted to protect! Harry silently vowed to do whatever he could to ensure that none of them had to feel like he had in his short life span. And so Harry Potter sat there in his Aunt and Uncle's house, wearing ragged clothes and feeling more pain then he knew humanly possible, swearing to himself to prepare for war with Voldemort.

As he started racking his brain for ideas on where to start, he realized that it would be harder then he realized. Harry didn't even know half the spells that Voldemort did. He was lacking experience and practice at that, but there was nothing he could do about it until school started up again. He did still have his schoolbooks from all five school years, but he needed something stronger to defeat the world's most evil wizard. Voldemort may be a twisted and warped, but he was also very smart and talented.

Out the corner of his eye, Harry saw a middle-aged woman jogging down the street. He watched as she made her way down the street until he couldn't see her anymore.

That was it! Harry needed to exercise! That way if he got in another bind with death eaters and none of them had their wands, he would be stronger! Being stronger must have its other advantages to. The cruciatious curse was bound to do more damage to a scrawny boy than someone who was strong, wouldn't it?

Harry scanned his brain to try and remember some sort of an exercise that would help. The only thing he could remember from primary school was sit-ups and push-ups. Maybe he could find a bar to do chin-ups as well. He could also start running like the middle-aged woman, but those would only help him get in shape. He needed to add muscle, not just tone it.

_'Weights! But where can I find weights for me to lift?'_

Dudley was the answer to that question. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon really had taken drastic measures while Harry and Dudley had been away at school. His personal trainer and physician had made sure that Dudley had a weight bench at home with him to train with over the summer. Uncle Vernon's reasoning had been that exercise was for pansies and how could they expect Dudders to become healthy if he wasn't properly fed? He would faint from malnutrition if he had to survive on grapefruit halves again. Weights were a more manly way of losing weight the excess poundage.

Uncle Vernon had placed the machines in the shed with a padlock so that Dudley could train in privacy, without being bothered by anyone, namely Harry. Of course, Dudley went into the shed once a day and came back all "sweaty" from his "workout" but Harry happened to know he hadn't even touched the weights all summer. The "sweat" was merely from the heat. He was pretty sure Dudley only subjected to his parents wishes of locking himself in the shed to 'workout' because it gave him an alibi to smoke his cigarettes. Harry had seen the smoke that was oozing in between the roof of the shed from the window in his bedroom. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia sure were blatantly stupid when it came to their son.

Harry thought about offering him a trade for the use of the shed, but had nothing that Dudley would want. He could bribe Dudley to allow him to use his equipment in the shed without anyone knowing, but what would Dudley want? The answer to that was simple; cigarettes. Harry had seen he and his friends smoking near the park last summer on countless occasions. How would Harry get a hold of them?

In a sudden inspiration, Harry grabbed a new parchment and jotted a quick letter:

_Gred and Forge, _

_How are you? I am well, and hope you are to. How goes Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes? I expect some results, you two! _

_The real reason I write to you is that I am in need of your services. Firstly, I would like you to take half the money I have enclosed in this letter and exchange it for muggle money. Secondly, I need you to go to a muggle convenient store and purchase something for Dudley. I think about four or five packs of cigarettes should do. Once they are purchased, please perform a safety charm on them (they are quite a heath hazard in the muggle world without the charms). I would hate for my ...gifts to be of any harm to his health. Whatever you can manage will be appreciated for the "Trades" I intend to make with him. _

_Also, with the half of wizarding money that I have sent, I would like for you to see if you can learn what books I will need for sixth year, if you can. Don't arise suspicion. I don't want anyone to_ know that I am actually _buying books ahead of time. Also, if you find any other useful books that I might benefit from, buy them as well. I am interested in occlumency, defense against the dark arts, any good hexes and curses (that AREN'T dark arts), healing, dueling, and possibly animagi. _

_Anyway, please purchase them and send the cigarettes and books THE MUGGLE WAY to my aunt's and uncle's. I don't want to burden your mother with the chore of having to do my bidding again this year, seeing as I can't go to Diagon alley myself. _

_You may have to put a charm on some of the items so that their real identities aren't revealed; the Dursley's won't be fond of them. You could probably use your own names on the return address, but I wouldn't put a truthful address on it. I am sure that they will open the box before they let me have it, but no jokes please! Whatever you make them appear as, make sure it's something harmless and please make sure they turn themselves back. I can't do magic, remember? _

_You can keep what is not spent of the wizarding money. Consider it payment for the trouble you'll have to go through to obtain the items I have asked for. If there isn't enough, would you be kind enough to lend me until I can get to my vault to repay you? Please keep this a secret between us. You know as well as I do what your mother's reaction would be to your taking care of me rather than allowing her! You guys are a lifesaver. _

_Thanks! _

_Harry  
_  
Folding the letter with all the galleons he had left, he placed it and the letter inside an envelope and laid it down to wait for Hedwig's return from that morning's delivery. He had solved more than one of his problems in that one little letter. Well, maybe not solved, more like make a dent in them.

Harry decided to start on what exercise he could do without Dudley's equipment.

He stood up and shoved a pile of dirty clothes that lay in a heap on the floor by his bed. He grabbed his pillow and threw it down where the pile had been seconds before. Harry laid down on the wooden floor, with his head on the pillow and his feet together. He started his sit-ups. It wasn't until he got to 30 that his stomach began to ache.

_'You can't wimp out! If you do, Voldemort will have no trouble breaking you and then you'll let the world down!'_

Harry continued, grimacing through the pain in his abdomen. He forced himself to reach 50 before allowing himself a short break. When he had caught his breath, he started up again. It seemed to take forever to reach 50 this time because he had to allow himself two breaks in-between this time. When he finally reached his 100th sit-up, he stood up slowly because he had grown quite dizzy.

A glance at the clock told him that it had only been about 10 minuets since he started his exercise. Harry silently decided to give ten minuets every morning and every evening to do 100 sit-ups; no exceptions. In fact, after his first week he would start increasing his numbers. He could feel what stomach muscles he had used twitching while the interior tingled strangely.

Harry gave a loud sigh as he dropped to the floor again to do push ups. At his 20th he realized it was his arms that were hurting in this exercise, but he forced himself to reach his goal, stopping only when he had to.

If he did 100 sit-ups and push-ups every morning and every evening he would certainly be in better shape, judging by the amount of pain his upper body was in at the moment.

Harry wasn't sure how he would go about jogging. There were Order members surrounding the house day and night; Harry was sure of it.

_'Except for when there is an Order meeting, and possibly when they change shifts.'_

Harry was a little uneasy about disobeying the Order. They hadn't actually given him orders NOT to go outside but he knew that going for a jog might cause mayhem. Everyone would question his motives and call him paranoid. Harry didn't really like the idea of the entire order nosing around to learn what he was 'up to' this summer. Harry nodded his head in agreement with himself to put off running until he was back at Hogwarts. The quitditch pitch would do nicely. Perhaps he could even lift weights in the room of requirements.

He looked around his as if he could spot something else to exercise with, but found nothing. Harry got up and walked quietly to the bathroom. He stared at the shower curtain for a moment. After shutting the door behind him, Harry walked over to the shower.

He reached up and gripped the pole lightly. He gave a test tug. It appeared to be sturdy. The tiles around the wall seemed to be solid. Very carefully, Harry wrapped his other hand around the bar. Taking a deep breath while praying that it was strong enough to support his weight, Harry pulled himself up so that he could rest his chin on the bar. He let himself down quickly. The muscles in his arms were seizing up from his previous conditioning.

_'Okay, maybe I should wait a few while before I start with this one,'_

Harry crept back to his room. It was slightly past noon now and Dudley was watching T.V. while Aunt Petunia was probably cleaning the kitchen and spying out the window.

The first thing Harry noticed, upon his survey of his messy bedroom, was the pile of books that were stacked against the wall. Harry walked over and picked out all the books from his first year. There were eight in all. He carefully stacked them on his nightstand. If he planned to learn anything this summer, he'd need a good solid review first. He would read through all the first-year books today, second-year tomorrow, and then the third-year... At that pace, he would be finished with all five years before the end of the week. Of course, he would remember to do his exercises in the mornings and evenings. He had very little homework this year, due to one thing or another. The upcoming sixth years usually caught a lucky break because, until the students received their O.W.L.'S, they couldn't be certain which student would be returning to what classes. Throw in all the chaos that usually finds Harry every year at Hogwarts in June and...

Harry climbed onto his bed and sat with his back leaning against the headboard, softened by the pillow he was using as a buffer. The book on top was **The Dark Forces: A Guide To Self-Protection** by Quentin Trimble. Harry opened the book and focused on absorbing the information in the book. It was surprisingly easier to read the second time through, and the contents seemed so simple! It took no less than an hour for Harry to move on his next book.

By the time Harry had read all the books on his reading list for the day, he was stiff backed and had a sharp pain in his neck. He pushed his books aside and stood up to stretch, but stopped quickly. His stomach muscles were protesting fiercely. Harry sighed in exasperation with his pathetic body. He would still have to do his exercises no matter what his limbs were telling him. He carefully dropped to the floor and commenced his workout. This time he had wanted to stop to rest sooner than he had that morning.

_'Stop bellyaching, Potter! You've got deatheaters to defeat! I'll bet THEY can do all 100 without needing a break!'  
_  
Harry bit his bottom lip and worked through the pain. He was sweating a great deal at the end of it all, but was pleased with himself, none-the- less. He promised himself that he would work on his stamina.

Dreading sleep, Harry sat down at his desk, his thoughts lingering on the dream he had had last night. Was that that the kind of thing he should tell someone? Harry found that he didn't want to share it with anyone, let alone Dumbledore, but knew first hand what had formatted from the last weird dream/vision he had. Then again, this one was different. It wasn't sent from Voldemort. Harry didn't know how he knew, but he did. Yes. This was something he would keep to himself, but he needed to write it down to be sure that he could recall all the events within it at a later date.

Harry got up and walked over to his trunk. He rummaged around in the quickly darkening room, trying to find what he was looking for when a something sharp spliced the skin on his right wrist open. Harry recoiled his hand, to see blood gushing from it freely. His eyes widened as he grabbed one of his hand-me-down shirts to wrap his wrist in. Closing his eyes, he put as much pressure as he could on the bundle that was absorbing the crimson color like a dry sponge. He hastily threw one of his old oxford school shirts over the previous shirt.

Harry watched as part of school uniform was tinged with his blood. He took a deep breath, knowing that the extra pressure he was about to add would cause more pain; he placed his arm between his knees and squeezed them together. Shockingly, Harry felt very little other the protest of his already-over-worked muscles. Dizziness fell upon him as the blood loss took its toll. Not for the first time, Harry was thankful for his high tolerance for pain.

When the bleeding seemed to slow, Harry cautiously staggered to the bathroom to bandage it. Normally, Harry wouldn't be allowed to use the things in the bathroom, other than the taps, bath, and facility. He knew Uncle Vernon remembered Moody's threat, but didn't feel secure enough to do anything to risk it. Even if the Headmaster himself were with him, he still would walk on eggshells. Many years of Privet Drive had taught him things about his 'family.'

Harry returned to his room with his arm heavily wrapped in gauze, and his two bloodstained shirts, dripping with water from the bath he gave them in the sink. Harry sighed as he dropped them in the bottom of his wardrobe. He cautiously peeked into his trunk, curious to see what he had cut himself on. A shiny object lodged in the wood on the sidewall caught his attention. On closer inspection, it turned out to be Sirius' mirror. He had smashed it in his trunk the night before leaving Hogwarts.

Harry shook his head to rid the thoughts of his fallen Godfather from his mind. He didn't want to think about that.

Once again, the teenage boy began to shift the contents of his trunk around, although this time he thoughtfully took heed in his actions.

"Aha!" Harry whispered out loud.

In his hands, Harry Potter held the five by seven homework planner that Hermione had given him for Christmas. He closed the lid on his trunk and walked back to the seat at his desk. It was rather hard to write down the events and details of his dream with his wrist bound so tightly but Harry managed it. The charms that were placed on the planner to make it spout useless sayings, had thankfully worn off to a dull whisper. He couldn't help but smile at the use his best friends gift was finally being put to.

He leaned back in his chair. It was ten thirty. The Dursley's footsteps could be heard in the hall on their way to bed. Harry took a deep breath as he stared at the white gauze around his wrist. If the cut had been any deeper he could easily have died. Finite incantatem, Harry! The world would be doomed and he wouldn't have even been able to say goodbye to his friends.

Harry sat up straight as he reached in a desk drawer for some fresh pieces of parchment. By the light of his lamp, Harry stayed up for four more hours writing goodbye letters to anyone and everyone that was special to him. By two thirty he had a written a formal group goodbye to anyone and everyone who wanted to read it. His individual goodbyes were for Ron and each individual Weasley, Hermione, Remus Lupin, Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, Tonks, Dobby, Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom.

With further thought, Harry spent another hour writing a quick goodbye to anyone who might miss him dearly, or could have unresolved business with him. Those bunches of letters were written to Professor Snape, the Dursley's, Draco Malfoy, Cho Chang, and the Creevey brothers. Also a group letter was written to the Gryffindor house, the quidditch team, the D.A. and the Order, and Hogwarts as a whole.

By the time he had finished with all of that, it was nearly four in the morning. Harry's eyes and body were itching for sleep, but Harry would not allow it. He had no desire for dreams of Sirius, nightmares of past events (more like murders, Harry thought glumly), or visions of Voldemort. So he briefly stood and stretched before settling down to write a final testament of what to do with all of his possessions. When he had finished, he shoved all the letters in the drawer in his desk that was now empty from the lack of blank parchment. So at four thirty, Harry gave in and laid down to rest after stacking his books in the corner of his room and removing his shirt and glasses. Harry's last thoughts before he slipped into the blackness of sleep were hopes to have a peaceful dream.


	3. Ignored Letters

`*Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling deserves ALL credit*~  
  
When Nightmares Are A Good Thing  
  
Chapter 3: Ignored Letters  
  
"Cedric, no!"  
  
Harry bolted upright in his bed. Another nightmare from the graveyard had, yet again, found its way into Harry's sleep.  
  
He wiped his sweaty forehead on his dingy white bed sheet before he rolled out of bed very painfully. His body was very stiff at his shoulder and elbow joints. Also, his upper body muscles screamed, when forced to move, like they were spontaneously lit on fire. Harry ignored his this as well as the emptiness of his stomach. He hadn't eaten anything yesterday, nor had he eaten anything, save a piece of toast and jam at breakfast, the day before that.  
  
A tap at the window demanded his attention. Hedwig was hovering outside, waiting patiently for the boy to let her in.  
  
"Hey there, girl. Did you have a good flight?" Harry asked after opening the window for her to enter through.  
  
Harry smiled slightly as his snowy owl hooted affectionately and nipped at his fingers from her place on the desk. She nudged his right forearm in concern, having seen the red-tinted gauze and smelt the blood.  
  
"I'm alright, girl. Just a little accident is all." Harry disclosed to the only one, other than him, to endure the Dursley's.  
  
He glanced her legs to see not just one, but three letters tied together. Harry quickly removed the burdens before leading Hedwig to her cage in the corner for a drink of water and an owl treat.  
  
Those letters weren't a good sign. It meant that his letter had worried them; therefore many had sent back notes of meaningless advice. Why they all thought they could coax him into spilling his guts was beyond his comprehension. Ron and Hermione knew better then to continue bugging about a subject that he was tight lipped about.  
  
Harry sorted through the small pile to find that the first was from Ron, the second was in Professor Lupin's handwriting, and the last was written by the headmaster; Albus Dumbledore.  
  
With a sigh, Harry tossed Ron's onto the top of his desk where all the other unopened letters resided. He thought he could get away with just skimming through his old Defense teachers, but he would have to open Dumbledore's and reply, he was sure.  
  
"Well, he can just wait for that reply like I did waited all year long." Harry mumbled out loud. He knew that was very childish of him. The old man had simply done what he thought was best, but there was still something about the whole situation that was still nagging at him in the back of his mind.  
  
He turned to look at Hedwig, who was watching him reproachfully with her amber painted eyes.  
  
"Let me know when you've rested. I have an important letter to be delivered to the Weasley twins." Harry said.  
  
Immediately, Hedwig fluttered to the desk in front of Harry and stuck out her leg.  
  
'Must have spent some spare time over at headquarters waiting their replies,' Harry thought to himself.  
  
None-the-less, Harry attached the envelope (clad with what galleons, sickles, and knuts he had left) to the owl's leg before she exited the way she came in.  
  
Harry dropped to the floor gingerly and commenced his training. Fighting through the discomfort the way he had the night before, Harry reached his goal of 100 only stopping once; twice including both exercises.  
  
Once he was done, Harry changed out yesterday's day clothes and slipped into another pair of ridiculously huge pair of trousers and a baggy long-sleeved tee shirt to hide his wound from any of the Order members who might be watching.  
  
The teenage boy walked down the stairs to find Dudley eating lunch and his Aunt sitting at the table, flipping through a gossip magazine. Harry entered the kitchen quietly and went about making a simple sandwich. He filled a glass of water and sat down in a vacant seat and began consuming his the second scanty meal in two days. Halfway through the sandwich, Harry found he didn't want to finish it but forced himself to go on. He knew the punishment would be bold for wasting food that Dudley could have otherwise eaten.  
  
Feeling completely full and slightly nauseated, Harry made his way back to his bedroom where he spent the rest of the day reading his second year books.  
  
It didn't take Harry near as much time to read through his second-year books as it did his first considering there was really only one or two worth reading. The others were all embellishments written by Gilderoy Lockhart. Therefore, Harry took his time reading the real books and only thumbed through his defense books briefly. Late in the afternoon Harry picked up his new 'dream journal' and jotted down his nightmare of the graveyard and Voldemort's rebirth.  
  
When that was finished, Harry turned his attention to the remaining potions and transfiguration essays that were due. Harry spent as much time as he could on each, putting every detail he knew into descriptive words. Even Hermione would have been hard pressed to complain over the effort Harry put into them.  
  
It was then, as he was putting away his finished homework and their respective books, that Harry knew he couldn't afford to dawdle anymore. He had to read his mail.  
  
So, Harry picked up the letter from Lupin and glanced through it. Nothing different, just the usual concern for his mental being, how he was really be treated by the Dursleys, and the promise that he would be there if Harry needed someone to talk to. Harry actually rolled his eyes a little at this. He appreciated the gesture, sure, but the werewolf had mentioned it twice in this letter and in twice in all of the others he had sent so far!  
  
Shaking his head, Harry broke the headmaster's seal and read the letter.  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
I hope this letter finds you in better spirits, my boys. I daresay you were unapt to speak with anyone when I last saw you.  
  
I know the last thing you want to do right now is to speak with me, so I will only insist that you write me about any unusual dreams or visions you have. As you know (and probably have felt) Voldemort has been somewhat quiet since he was thwarted for the fifth time.  
  
I cannot tell you anything of importance, but I will say that everything (and everyone) is fine.  
  
Harry, I do hope you can understand me. You need not forgive me now, but please try to relate to my situation. I did what I thought was best. You know how that feels, to do something to the best of your capability and knowledge only to have the situation react differently.  
  
I am always here for you to talk to. Anytime you need.  
  
Sincerely, Albus Dumbledore  
  
Harry dropped the letter as if it were on fire. He knew that the old man was right in everything he said, but Harry's mind was still chewing on an unknown flavor of fat. The confused teenager pondered on it for a moment. He had lost his trust in Dumbledore when he found out that the prophecy was kept a secret from him for so long, but had he? If he were placed in a life or death situation, would he trust Dumbledore? 'Of course!' his mind argued. If it wasn't an issue of trust, was it betrayal or did he simply get his feelings hurt? True, not having the headmaster look at him for an entire year was quite painful.  
  
The boy decided to shove all of his thought aside to be examined at a later date. Harry, for the second time that day, lowered himself to the floor to do his exercises.  
  
Once finished, Harry clamored downstairs for a late 'dinner' in which consisted of a slightly bruised apple and a large glass of milk.  
  
Harry then made his back upstairs, cautiously avoiding any stray looks from his Aunt, and Uncle.  
  
When he opened the door, Harry saw Hedwig perched on his desk chair, reply in tow. He closed the window and took his note from his bird before sitting down on his bed to read. The note from the twins said, more or less, that they would be delighted to do as Harry asked. He should receive a package in the mail sometime soon. The half of the wizarding money he sent was included along with quite a sum of muggle money. The twins had written a postscript claiming that they couldn't bear to take money from someone who had once given them fifty times more than that sum out of the goodness out of his heart. They said they would be repaying his kindness and this was only step one.  
  
Harry breathed a shaky breath. That promise from a Weasley was enough to make a Marauder nervous.  
  
He quickly changed into pajama bottoms, gripped his wand, and lay down on his bed. His last thoughts were of how glad he was to know the Weasley family. 


	4. The Purchases

~*Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling deserves ALL credit*~  
  
When Nightmares Are A Good Thing  
  
Chapter 4: The Purchases  
  
The night passed with Harry weaving in and out of dreams. Most of them were of Sirius falling through the veil, but there were a few that included a very decayed Godfather shaking his head in disappointment at Harry. 'Why did you kill me, Harry? How could you?' he had said.  
  
The boy pushed all memories of his dreams and aside and did his exercises before heading off to the bathroom for a long shower, which involved all the warm water that the rest of the Dursley's had left. The smooth beads of water that beat down on his body felt good against his manipulated muscles.  
  
Harry didn't dare linger any longer then possible, due to old habits from the days when there were no threats from the Order. Changing as quickly as possible, he made his way down stairs only to find that Dudley had gone somewhere for the day ("Probably put for 'tea'! Ha!"), his Uncle had left for work, and his Aunt was out shopping.  
  
The boy sat himself down at the table with a mug of leftover coffee, still warm in the coffee pot from his Uncle's breakfast. Toast was made and jam was slathered on it half-heartedly.  
  
While he forced himself to eat, his gaze landed on a clothing magazine Aunt Petunia had left open on the table. The young man modeling the clothes on the colorful page was wearing a comfortable looking tee shirt and a pair of purposely faded blue jeans. Harry looked down at his own clothing in disgust. He had always been forced to wear tattered hand-me-downs from Dudley.  
  
As he flicked through the pages, adoring the thought of having clothes that fit, realization hit Harry. He had money! Not just a vault full of gold galleons, but muggle money in his room that was waiting for him to spend! Of course, he knew the Dursley's couldn't know about his inheritance, but Harry was defiantly go to have new clothing even if he had to have it delivered to him at Hogwarts.  
  
Five minuets later, a teenage boy sat alone at a kitchen table, flipping through an expensive designer's catalog writing down items that appealed to him. At first, he had no idea what he needed or wanted. So, he started with the basics...undergarments. The catalog showed many different types and colors. Reading through the prices and sizes, Harry wrote down one package of the y-fronts, and four packages of the boxers. The shorts, Harry bargained, would cover more of his body, which he would be thankful for the next time he ended up in the hospital wing.  
  
Next, he wrote down three packages of sock. Three would do, because Dobby would probably wind up knitting him some more for Christmas. Packages of ribbed tank tops were added to list for him to work out in, although, Harry had to speculate his size as a men's small. After all, if Dudley secondhand cloths said "XXXL" then perhaps Harry should get the smallest size available. Just in case Harry decided to vary the rest of his purchases from XS, S, and M.  
  
Ten plain white, three rhiane green, two crimson red, one royal blue, five midnight black, one Chudley Cannon orange (Harry had cringed as the book named it 'tangerine'), one golden yellow, and two charcoal gray tee shirts later, Harry was trying to decide on his trouser size. Finally, he opted to rummaging though his Aunt's drawer before coming across a stiff tape measure. He did as the book demanded, and found that he was a twenty-eight x twenty-nine, but the closest size the book list was a thirty x thirty. So, Harry settled on the larger size reasoning that he was already used to baggy pants and it was probably better for dueling anyway.  
  
The models were all sporting the new design of baggy, big and many pocketed blue jeans that looked slightly worn out in the knees and seat, but they looked good on the brown haired boy staring up at him from a confident pose. Indifferent as to whether or not they would look good on him, Harry choose to buy five pair of blue jeans and five pair of khaki trousers with big pockets on the side of the knees that were long enough to store his wand in.  
  
The raven-haired boy turned the page to find even more shirts! (Goodness, how he had forgotten how much muggles focused on unimportant things! Vanity was never an issue with Harry, but it was something the Dursley's placed a priority on.) With a shrug Harry wrote down the polo shirts of all the colors he already bought and more.  
  
Doing a quick estimate, Harry found that he still had half of his muggle money to use. Because there was no other option for him to be able to spend it another way, Harry selected many long sleeved button-up oxford shirts and a few long sleeved pullover jumpers.  
  
The last few items he added to the list were a pair of trainers, brown boots (Harry thought it would be nice to boots of another color so he didn't wear out his school uniform shoes), and wide brown belt (in case he measured his pant size terribly wrong), some baggy athletic shorts (though the model was holding a basketball, Harry decided they would cover his knobby knees and would suffice for his training), a package of assorted colored pajama pants, and a jacket.  
  
Harry would have patronized himself for spending so much money selfishly, but something within him said that he needed to have this. Clothes were essential, and if new ones would replace some of his lost dignity, then it was a good thing. After all, the 'savior of the wizarding world' couldn't be seen wearing rags. To think of what people would think! Harry laughed out loud as he finished filling out the purchase order. He slipped the all the muggle money inside. He filled out the address as his own, but made sure he wrote Alastor Moody on the name. Perhaps when his Aunt and Uncle saw the odd name, they would assume that one of the Order had sent it to him and leave him alone about it out of fear.  
  
Harry shook his head as he stepped outside and walked to the mailbox (A/N: Do they have mailboxes in Britain? Well, I am pretending they do) and shoved his order inside. A dull shuffling noise behind him caught his attention. His hand jumped to his back pocket, where his wand was still kept, as he spun around to find nothing.  
  
Harry snorted as he realized that it was just an Order member who was on guard at the time. He wasn't a baby who needed a shield of protectors day in and day out. He walked back to the house muttering to himself about how he's end up being more paranoid than Mad Eye one day.  
  
The rest of the day passed slowly, with the reading of his third-year books and writing down the dream/nightmare he had the night before. He sent an owl with a plain response of "I'm fine, Harry" to the Order. ('They thought the last note was bad! Ha! Maybe this one will teach them not to write worried replies to the letters I send that actually have information in them!') He knew that was very childish thinking, but it was how he felt at the moment. He knew they were honestly trying to help him and would do whatever it took to help him out, but that was just it. He didn't really want their help. He probably needed it, but using it would only cause further damage to them. Yes, being childish was probably the best way. Annoy them, like Snape, and they would undoubtedly want nothing to do with him.  
  
'Yeah, right!' Harry snorted to himself.  
  
After his nocturnal exercises, Harry reluctantly went to sleep at nine O'clock, knowing he would be awakened in a few short hours after the nightmare that was sure to come. 


	5. Weight Lifting With Dudley

~* Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling deserves all credit*~  
  
When Nightmares Are A Good Thing  
  
Chapter 5: Weight Lifting with Dudley  
  
Morning dawned incredibly bright and with great audacity. The aurora's first arms of light seemed to ignore the curtains of the smallest bedroom in Privet Drive number 4, reaching past the dull cloth -intending to defy the sun- and shining on the attenuated boy. Not that Harry was sleeping, of course, but rather lying in bed to await the daylight.  
  
Sensing that he could in fact get out of bed without waking any of the other inhabitants of the household, Harry tentatively walked to his desk, and pulled a piece of parchment out of a drawer. He ghosted over the words before folding it up and tying it to Hedwig's awaiting leg.  
  
"Be careful out there, girl," Harry cautioned his owl.  
  
Hedwig's amber eyes gave him an annoyed look before hooting and nipping his finger affectionately  
  
The third week of July was just starting – yet, to Harry, it felt like he had been at Hogwarts just yesterday.  
  
'That's probably cause I saw Sirius DIE again yesterday!'  
  
Studying and physical training helped to occupy his time and mind for a short while, but his concentration would sometimes slip up and focus on the real reason he was preparing himself; his motivation; Sirius. Harry was, nonetheless, most certainly better now then he had been in his first week back 'home'.  
  
Today was a Sunday and Harry had nothing left to do. He had read all his schoolbooks respectively and had completed his essays with such assiduousness, that it was sure to not only achieve the highest marks in his class, but also impress his teachers with his proficiency. The teenage boy couldn't help but smile at the imagery of his best friend, Hermione's face when she saw the outcome of their holiday assignments.  
  
Harry wasted no time in doing his routine work out. His body had gotten past the first stage of exercise, and was now taking to his hard work quite nicely. In truth, Harry had increased his repetitions from one hundred, to one hundred and fifty just as soon as he the pain had ebbed away.  
  
After a luke-warm shower and a breakfast consisting of an appropriated mug of coffee from under his Aunt's disapproving eye, Harry sat at his desk drawing up a list of spells, charms, and defenses among other things he needed to learn. So far he had written the following:  
  
Apparation  
Port Key Spell  
Wards (silencing and privacy)  
  
None of that could be done without the proper books, obviously, which is why Harry could be found posting the 'List of Things to Learn' next to his annual 'Days Until Hogwarts' calendar on the wall by his bed, in the corner of his room.  
  
Realization that there was nothing for him to do struck Harry. He sank into his bed; lulling through the previous dreams he had had to record earlier. His parent's had died again. Harry couldn't help but feel guilt as he listened with a blindfolded head.  
  
'Get over it Potter. There's nothing you can do to take it back.'  
  
No matter what, he knew -deep inside- that he would always carry the of his parent's deaths along with Cedric's and Sirius's. All he could do now was prevent himself from causing another.  
  
At midday, Hedwig flew back in through the open window in his room with a note attached. Harry reached over and took it, while guiding his snowy owl to her cage where fresh water and an owl treat were waiting for her.  
  
It was another letter from Remus Lupin. With an exaggerated sigh, Harry committed himself to actually read the note and send reply. He had a bad feeling that nobody at headquarters was buying his act through his letters. The words that were scrawled on the page before him only confirmed his suspicions.  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
So, how have you been? Really, Harry! I'm not as thick as you might think! I know you are hurting, as am I. We have both lost someone very close to us, I think it is only fitting that we rely on each other for support. I really want to help you, Harry. I know Sirius would have wanted us to be close, in the case of his absence. Besides that, James and Lily would also have wanted this...and so do I. I care so much about you, Harry. Please keep that in mind.  
  
I am here for you,  
  
Remus J. Lupin  
  
Harry begrudgingly picked up his quill and jotted down a quick reply.  
  
Professor Lupin,  
  
If you know how I am hurting, why must you ask how I feel? If I am hurt from our loss, then obviously I am not in any form to talk about it until the pain has dulled. Not to be rude, but I really wish everyone would stop bothering me about it. Honestly, do I walk around spouting tears and breaking down? Then why does everyone think I am not okay? Anyway, thanks for your proposal. Also, why do you bother signing your full name? The only thing it has accomplished is the realization that we have the same middle initial! There's really no need for that sort of formalities, is there?  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Harry J. Potter  
  
The letter, in which Harry successfully maneuvered around Remus' proposition, was sent back with Hedwig. It was very brief, and slightly stoic but Harry couldn't be bothered with sharing his weaknesses with the last marauder. That is what he was, wasn't it? The last marauder. On second thought, Harry should have been more sympathetic with the werewolf. After all, he had lost all of his 'pack' to Voldemort all because Harry wouldn't die due to some stupid prophecy. Maybe, instead of spending all of his time worrying over his own troubles, Harry should be focusing on rectifying the troubles he had caused the people around him. Yes, Harry would certainly have to stop being so selfish. He was their 'savior', wasn't he?  
  
The teenage boy departed from his room only to appear in the kitchen a few moments later. As he sat down eating half a cheese sandwich for his lunch, the doorbell rang. Harry stood up and went to open it but Aunt Petunia had actually beaten him to it. It was such a shock that nobody had shouted at him to do it, that at first Harry didn't notice the postal service employee handing over a parcel with his name on it.  
  
Once the postman had left, his Aunt wheeled around with the box, which was wrapped in brown paper. Her lips were pursed together tightly that he doubted he had ever seen someone press their mouths closed as hard as that of his Aunt. Well, maybe Hermione and Professor McGonagall. A sudden image of Hermione, Professor McGonagall, and his Aunt Petunia all participating in a 'Lip Pursing Contest' floated to the front of Harry's mind. A sneer was repressed as he accepted the box from his Aunt's recalcitrant arms.  
  
Knowing very well that his Aunt Petunia would not take kindly to the opening of the box in privet, Harry careful examined the handwriting on the top. It read from 'Gred and Forge and also appeared to be in one of their handwritings. Still untrusting, Harry peeked inside to see about a dozen books and four or five packs of cigarettes as well as another brown-wrapped box and letter.  
  
A 'humph' was heard over his shoulder. Harry turned and looked directly at his Aunt's disbelieving face.  
  
"Why in the world would someone send you paper?" came her leery question.  
  
Harry was slightly confused for a moment, and then he remembered that he had asked the twins to charm the items. Obviously, the true contents were under a spell so that the Dursley's would only see stacks of parchment.  
  
"Well, seeing as I need to write to someone once every three days, not including any addition letters and homework that require paper, they probably anticipated that I would run out eventually. I think I may even receive a parcel of clothes, sometime soon." Harry replied nonchalantly.  
  
Petunia's eyes narrowed, but she said nothing as she went back to ignoring her nephew.  
  
A few moments later Harry and his parcel were safely enclosed behind his bedroom door. With a very close investigation Harry guessed that the box was charmed feather light, and with a concealment charm to disguise itself as paper to anyone other than the twins and Harry. Also a sizing charm, to allow many more items to fit in, when the actually size of the box would normally have demanded it was physically impossible. Sometimes magic could be such a blessing.  
  
There were thirteen books in the box. As Harry lifted the out of the container, he noticed that some were fairly used while other seemed to be brand new. The twins had managed to get all of the books that he had truly wanted. "The Theory of Occlumency and How to apply it" was the first he examined. Next was "Dueling for Experts" and "Defense for the Strong willed,"  
  
'Well, THAT'S am ironic title! Me, strong willed?'  
  
The rest of the brand new books were titled "Magic for the Wandless", "Everyday Household Spells", "A Healer's Guide to Healing", "So You Want to be an Animagus", and "Appearances; Outside and within". The older books turned out to be for Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, Care of Magical Creatures, and another Defense Against the Dark Arts book. Since they were second hand, Harry only assumed that the twins had given them a set of their own.  
  
Harry neatly stacked his new books along the wall in his tiny bedroom where his other schoolbooks were place. Returning to the box, Harry pulled out the four packs of cigarettes. Looking around the room for a place to hide for a later use, he finally settled on burying them in the still-damp tee shirt at the bottom of his wardrobe. He  
  
The only thing left was in the box now was yet ANOTHER brown parcel with a note attached.  
  
Rarhy,  
Hope you received this all right. The charms on that we placed on the box should last a week or two, no less. We decided to pass on some of our books from sixth year on to you. Since we have no idea what courses you will take, this seemed to be the only way to get you text without asking a professor about it and arousing suspicion. The other books we picked out for you and hope they are to your liking. As you have probably guessed, neither of us wanted to take potions with that ... Anyway, it was Bill's, and then passes on to ...well, we won't go into THAT but it has only been used twice so it should be in slightly better shape. If you find that you don't have all the needed (or wanted) books, let us know. We'd be glad to help out. The cigarettes have been charmed to inflict no harm whatsoever on the smoker. We also added a charm to hide the smell. Honestly, the people who were using those things outside of the store!!! And we thought dung bombs were bad! Anyway, the other box is a...care package as a gift from us to you. I think the cloths are pretty self-explanatory. Dragon hide will not repel all spells, but it helps with most. Think of them as armor. The rest is something we saw in the convenient store and thought you might find appealing. Use it wisely, my friend. Not that any of it was hard to obtain. We thought for sure we'd be in need of a strong disguise. Muggles these days are either very stupid, or very lazy!  
  
The Pranksters That You Chose To Benefit,  
  
Gred and Forge Weasley  
  
With great anticipation, Harry opened the smaller box expecting some Weasley Wizarding Wheezes or some other prank. He was genuinely surprised when he pulled out a pair of black dragon hide leather pants and boots to match. Another note fluttered to the floor as Harry shook the leather trousers free of its wrinkles.  
  
P.S. Don't worry about the sizing, mate. They are spelled to tailor themselves to a perfect fit for you the first time you put them on.  
  
Harry laughed out loud at the irony in the similarities of the leather outfit and the Weasley twins. Fred and George, as beaters for the Gryffindor quidditch team, would always do their best to protect Harry from bludgers, but they could only truly help out if the bludgers was aimed directly at him, the seeker. Now, Harry supposed the pants and boots would ward off any spells, providing they were aimed directly at what was covered in the leather. It was rather like having the Weasley twin's protection with him at all times.  
  
Peering back into the parcel, Harry spotted two glass bottles that contained a clear liquid and two small white container that held tiny pills. Examining the labels, the first two objects proved to be hard liquor. The pills turned out to be aspirin; one was just for everyday headaches and such. The other had a sleeping aide imbedded in it to help sleep through the ailment of whatever the user was inflicted with. With the gifts that the twins had sent, Harry wondered if they were trying to help him escape from the muggles and from the realization that his Godfather was gone, or if they knew of his nightmares. Surely, they would keep this a private matter. If not, at least he wouldn't have to work at keeping his secrets anymore. Either way it went, Harry seemed to win out.  
  
He quickly packed the alcohol and aspirin back in to the small box. He then retrieved the previously hidden cigarettes, keeping out one pack for later, and placed them in the box as well When the box was hidden under the loose floorboard, Harry stood up and made his way across the hall to Dudley's room. He knocked on the door lightly before entering.  
  
His pig of a cousin was laying on his bed, as Harry had been accustomed to doing, and staring up at the ceiling. He glanced at Harry, and jerked upright.  
  
"What are you doing in here? Get out or I'll tell Dad!" Dudley began immediately.  
  
"Look, I wanted to make you an offer. I need to trade you something," Harry said in hurry before Dudley could yell and push him out of the room.  
  
"Why would I want to trade you anything? It's not like you've got anything I want!" the fat whale snorted.  
  
With a mischievous grin, Harry reached in his overly large trouser pocket and pulled out a brand new pack of cigarettes, "Oh, really. Well, I guess these will go to waste!" he tempted, waving them up for Dudley to see and read the label.  
  
"H-how? How didjya? Where did those come from?" came his stuttered reply.  
  
"Well, obviously from a convenient store. Like I said, I want to make a trade with you," Harry paused to survey the other boy, who was recovering from his shock at seeing his dilapidated cousin with cigarettes and was now trying not to seem too eager, "You see, I wish to train my body and you seem to have a weight bench. For one pack of cigs a week, you let me use your weight bench once a day."  
  
Dudley seemed to consider this. He obviously would lose nothing, but gain something he wanted. At the same time, he would be giving Harry something he wanted. The wheels of his mind could almost be seen turning, or rather creaking. Whose needs were more important?  
  
After another minuet Dudley asked, "How would you be able to get in the shed without Mum and Dad noticing?"  
  
Harry was slightly shocked at the intelligent response. "Well, how about if you complain to Uncle Vernon about ho you need someone in there when you work out to add weight to the bar and stuff. You know, get him to force me. Then, when we are in the shed, you can smoke while I get to use your equipment. Deal?"  
  
Dudley fidgeted where he was sitting on his bed. He bit his lip and looked Harry over. In one motion, he stood up and walked over to Harry and grabbed the cigarettes from his hand. After looking at the box closely, he glanced at Harry uncertainly.  
  
"So...you get me one pack of smokes a week, and all I have to do is get Dad to allow you to follow me into the shed once a day?"  
  
With a smile, Harry nodded his head, "Yes, but we don't tell anyone about our deal. Nobody but us two is to know about this, okay?"  
  
Dudley narrowed his eyes in suspicion and said, "If you tell I swear you'll regret it!" while cracking his knuckles, with a Crab-like mannerism.  
  
Harry swallowed, not because he was afraid of anything (through he knew Dudley wasn't joking around when he issued the threat), but because it was always a good ego booster for Dudley.  
  
With a smirk, Dudley opened the pack and slid out two skinny round sticks into his pudgy palm. Carefully placing them in his sock to keep the lighter company, he strode over to the door of his bedroom.  
  
"Give me a few minuets," he called over his shoulder before walking as fastly as his body would allow him to go.  
  
Harry exited Dudley well furnished bedroom and entered his own plain and barren one. He searched his room to make sure that all of the items he had received from Fred and George were out of sight and well hidden, he sat down at his desk. The broken clock said that it was fifteen after five in the evening. Uncle Vernon was probably just getting home. With a sigh, Harry looked over the books that were stacked neatly against his wall. He carefully read over the titles of the new ones and put them in order of what he needed to read first, which he decided on occulemency.  
  
All of the sudden a bellowing voice from the kitchen shouted, "BOY!!!"  
  
Harry jogged down the stairs and made his way towards his uncle, who seemed to be holding back a smirk.  
  
"It seems that my Dudley here, needs someone to spot for him while he doing his weight lifting. Do whatever he tells you to, boy!" Uncle Vernon spat in a manner that was reserved for him and only him but not a second after he said it; Aunt Petunia shot him a nervous warning look. "Right, well if you would be...willing we'll pay you a fifty cent pence each day."  
  
Harry took a moment to pretend to consider before nodding his head in silent agreement. Without a word, Vernon reached a meaty hand into his trouser pocket and produced the promised payment. Of course, the money could barely buy anything; at least the Order's threat had inspired his Uncle to make an intending offer.  
  
"Let's go now, or we won't be in time for my dinner!"  
  
A few moments later, Harry found himself standing outside the shed by the garden behind his cousin. He watched with mild interest as Dudley fished a key out of his pocket and unlocked the large padlock similar to the one on the door leading to Harry's bedroom.  
  
Inside there was last year's living room couch, an old wooden chair, a weight bench complete with a bar loaded with iron, and dumbbells that littered the cement floor. Harry cast a curious eye towards Dudley, who was already settling himself on the couch while lighting up the first of his cigarettes.  
  
"I usually just move the dumbbells around and stuff to make it look like I do what I'm supposed to." The large boy explained stiffly through a puff of odorless smoke.  
  
Quickly, Harry started unloading the iron from the bar. It took five minuets seeing as there was at least three hundred pounds worth set up for Dudley. It turned out to be very challenging for Harry just to work his way to the bar, but eventually he was indeed lying awkwardly on his back staring at the plain bar. He reached up and took hold. It was a difficult task; bring the metal down to his chest and lifting it back up. Harry was only able to do this ten times before his arms felt like gelatin.  
  
"Try lifting the dumbbells like this..." Dudley spoke up, having sensed that Harry didn't actually know what to do next. He made an example by motioning with his arm and cigarette.  
  
Picking up one of the smaller weights, Harry did his best to copy Dudley's example; bringing his arm from parallel to his body, up to his shoulder by bending his elbow all the way.  
  
Harry lifted the iron as many times as he could, waiting for the pain to kick in. fifty repetitions with each arm was all it took for his body to feel completely spent, which worked out fine because by that time Dudley had smoked both of his cigarettes.  
  
The weights were lifted back onto the iron bar, and the padlock was locked behind them as soon as both the boys had left the shed and proceeded to dinner.  
  
Dinner that night was a quiet affair, the only noise being that of his cousin and uncle's fork scraping the plate as they tried to lap up every morsel, while Harry forced himself to eat a bit of mashed potatoes and stew.  
  
Silently, Harry excused himself from the table and placed his dishes in the sink. He left the kitchen without a word to the rest of the household, and retired to his room.  
  
The teenager was too drained physically to worry about showering or changing, therefore he simply settled into a sitting position on his bed, resting his head and back against the headboard with The Theory of Occlumency, and how to apply it.  
  
The subject, surprisingly, was very easy for Harry to comprehend. It helped to actually read the basics and learn the "whys" and "hows" of the effects and consequences of the art. The book was only three hundred pages long, seeing as it was only the basics and the theory. Harry had read it completely and thoroughly by midnight.  
  
Harry knew he should not avoid sleep, but confront it, yet he found himself rereading the first chapter by arguing that he didn't quite understand. Just as soon as he would shake his head to wake up, his eyes would droop shut again. Sighing, the boy placed his book on his night table along with his shirt (although it was very painful to take off) and his glasses.  
  
Wand in hand, Harry slid into bed. Summoning all of his focus, he erected a mental shield around his mind before he allowed sleep to claim him. 


	6. A Metamorphagus?

~*Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling deserves all credit*~  
  
When Nightmares Are A Good Thing  
  
Chapter 6: Metamorphagus?  
  
The week before his sixteenth birthday flew by with little regard for anything other than the reading and studying of his newly acquired books, and his weights/exercise routine. The weight portion now, of course, included Dudley of who was shocked when Harry began to give the daily "payment" Uncle Vernon provided to him. Dudley had clearly not understood why Harry would give away money to his bully of a cousin when his Uncle was giving him money for the first time in his life.  
  
Harry slept only when he felt he couldn't stay awake any longer, and ate only when he pictured Mrs. Weasley force-feeding him while Ron and Hermione shot him looks of sympathy. In truth, it was very difficult to eat much without feeling sick, therefore, Harry allowed himself to stop eating just as soon as he felt nauseous, knowing even the Order's threat wouldn't be able to keep his uncle from pounding him to death, if he were to throw up on Aunt Petunia's perfect carpet. He did, however, come to enjoy the flavor of Uncle Vernon's coffee. Of course, Harry couldn't drink a cup whenever he pleased, but he could sneak a mug when there was some left over.  
  
As far as letters went, Harry had received no reply from Remus Lupin, nor had he received anything from Dumbledore, Ron, or Hermione. Harry, so far that week, had only sent the necessary letter to the order and was returned a single parchment back, that read  
  
Keep your head up, Harry.  
  
To him, this seemed like a reverse attempt at urging Harry to write more information, but he knew better than to fall for it. He wasn't about to revert back to his childish antics of begging for information and to be taken away from his relatives. He knew the reason why he had to stay with his aunt and there was nothing short of a dementor attack that would raise attention enough to be taken away. No, he would just take his lumps as he earned them and so far, this summer at his relatives was probably what he needed or rather, what everyone else needed; a break from Harry. They must have been so annoyed with his whining and volatile mood swings last summer.  
  
A strange feeling had occurred within Harry when he received no reply from the Headmaster: he was disappointed. Why this was so, Harry had no clue, but he felt it. It wasn't because he thought that the old man had anything important to say, he was sure.  
  
This realization of conflicting emotions worried Harry. He was utterly clueless as to how he felt toward the old man. He had first been upset with him for abandoning him throughout the year and for ignoring his silent request to join the order. Then he was angry with him for forcing Occlumency lessons with Snape on him. When Harry had expressed his concerns, Dumbledore had merely ignored them as if nothing was wrong until that night at the Department of Mysteries only to tell him the secret he had asked about in his first year at Hogwarts. That he was predestined to kill or be killed by Voldemort. What hurt the worst was knowing how things could have been different if he had known that bit of information before his little escapade. Didn't Dumbledore trust him? Harry was not a weak person, he could have handled the truth and he most certainly would have accepted it much better had he been allowed more time to train for the final showdown without the pain of his Godfather's death.  
  
Yet another sad frown passed over Harry's facial features. He couldn't really blame Dumbledore too much. He hadn't known that Sirius would die and thus, force him to tell Harry of the prophecy. With a shake of his head, the teenager drove the confusing thoughts out of his head.  
  
Now it was a Monday, five days before his birthday. Harry had thoroughly read all of his new books and was currently debating which books deserved a second go, while he did his morning sit-ups and push-ups.  
  
As he finished, Harry sat on his bed gazing at himself, for the first real time in at least a year, in the mirror on the door inside of his wardrobe. He stood up and walked over to it, studying himself. He was a skinny boy with messy hair and eyes of an abnormal shade. There were large purple bags underneath his eyes and the skin over his face seemed to be thin and hard. His upper body, however skinny he was, was very well chiseled despite the outline of what he assumed were his ribs. While undoubtedly small for his age, Harry turned his skin and bones body into a well-toned skin and bones body. When he had first arrived at Hogwarts, he was the shortest kid in the entire school. Now he wondered briefly where he'd be in the standings.  
  
Harry sighed. He agreed with Mrs. Weasley on the fact that he needed to eat more. He knew that his poor health was taking its toll. It always did. He was always the shortest and skinniest of all the boys and most of the girls. If he were allowed to eat properly as a child, perhaps he would be of standard size already so that he wouldn't have to worry about eating and sleeping correctly in this difficult time of his life. Harry knew that he truly didn't care much about his appearance, but the Order and the Weasley's were certain to pitch a fit if they ever caught him in such a state.  
  
Harry studied himself once more. If only his hair would cover up his scar. That would certainly help. Caught up in his moment of wishful thinking, Harry had closed his eyes and imagined how his hair would look if it was long enough to cover the lightning bolt shaped cut on his forehead. When he opened his eyes Harry was so shocked, he jumped three feet in the air. His hair was now touching his shoulders! A state of panic claimed the teenager as he tried to figure out how he'd accomplished the act. Was it the wish? Wandless magic? Or was he a metamorpagi? If it were magic, the Ministry of Magic would be swooping in any minuet now to take him to Azkaban.  
  
Silently, Harry threw a shirt on, made sure his wand was in his hand and scribbled an apology to the order for being thrown into jail on account of accidental magic. Harry left the note on his pillow as he paced the floor in his room, waiting for an auror to either apparate or an owl to peck on the window.  
  
After ten minuets, Harry started wondering. After fifteen, he was suspicious and after thirty-five minuets passed the moment he grew out his hair, Harry knew that since he had not received any notice yet, perhaps he was not in trouble. This obviously made no sense.  
  
He had performed accidental magic before as a child and even in his teens. The ministry had even bothered to send an owl when Dobby, the house elf, splattered his Aunt's pudding in his second year. Why was it that he was issued a warning for Dobby's hover charm, and his patronus charm but not for his hair growth and other various incidents as a boy? If it weren't the escaped convict, Sirius Black, Harry would have been in trouble with the Ministry for blowing up Marge in third year. The only reason he knew this was because Fudge had brought it up during his trial last summer.  
  
Maybe the reason he wasn't in trouble was Fudge's way of apologizing for his idiousy last year. Or, could it be possible, that is was because the Ministry was only able to detect magic due to wand signatures? No, that couldn't be. If the were so, the Ministry would not have noticed Dobby's magical performance. Come to think of it, Harry had no idea how house elves performed magic. Was it achieved wandlessly or were their powers invoked from some other form? Another possibility was that privet drive was being monitored for all magical signs. The latter seemed most likely.  
  
Having assumed the answer to his own question as to why he did not received an owl from the Ministry of magic, Harry still had yet to solve the predicament that had started the whole mess. His hair was at a different length that was clearly noticeable. It was essential that his relations not see the change in his hairstyle seeing as they would know that it was caused by his "freakishness".  
  
Harry weighed out his options. He could attempt to shorten his hair by imagining it the way it was before, or he could think of a spell in his head that would do it for him. His curiosity won out. Harry would attempt to perform metamorphagi skills.  
  
Looking into the mirror for the second time that day, Harry closed his eyes and pictured how he looked before. Feeling nothing, the teenager opened his eyes to find that he was back to normal.  
  
A shocked expression crossed his face as he remember how he had grown his hair out over night after a particularly bad hair cut from Aunt Petunia. Was he a metamorphous or was it all accidentally a coincidence that he could grow his hair at will?  
  
To remedy that affair, Harry pictured the hooked-nose of his potions professor on his own face. When he opened his eyes he was surprised to find exactly what he had imagined! It was rather amusing, really, but as soon as he saw that he could do it, Harry replaced it with a nose much like a pigs. That too came easily for Harry.  
  
For the next hour, Harry practiced all sorts of looks and disguises. It was all very simple. All he had to do was imagine it, and it would appear. Although it did take him more than a few tries to change his height and weight, not that he would ever use it around the people that knew him. He couldn't alter anything noticeable or it would be a dead give away to his newfound talent and disguise weapon.  
  
The knowledge of his new skills made Harry wonder about the possibilities of him performing wandless magic. He quickly gathered his confidence in his decision to attempt magic without being expelled from Hogwarts.  
  
He glanced around his room, looking for something to perform magic on. His eyes landed on the book he had been reading the night before.  
  
Harry carefully selected a spell that was not only simple, but also one that he had no trouble in using. He thought 'Wingardium Leviosa!' in his head as he focused on levitating the book up.  
  
The book rose upwards, on Harry's mental thought, and landed gently on his bed. Instantly, Harry panicked. He hadn't truly believed that he would be able to. He resumed his pacing as he waited to see if he would receive an owl for this act of magic. After twenty minuets Harry almost smiled at the realization that he was, indeed, a metamorphagus and able to perform wandless magic. Now he would be able to practice most of the spells he had read about. Another plus to this new found talent, was that in a duel or a fight Harry would still be able to defend himself if he ever lost his wand. Not that his wand would do any good against Voldemort, anyway. Unless, of course, Voldemort was able to choose a different wand because Harry doubted that any of the adults that knew him would allow him to go anywhere new Diagon Alley or Hogsmede with Voldemort having been outed.  
  
Harry was just pulling up the sheet of parchment that had his "need to learn quickly" spells written on it when the boisterous voice of his Uncle elegantly drifted up the stairs.  
  
"BOY!!! GET DOWN HERE NOW!!!"  
  
A groan, a moan and thirty seconds later Harry found himself in the kitchen looking at a large box resting on the coffee table while his Aunt and Uncle eyed with warning, caution, and disgust.  
  
"That box was delivered just now. Has your name on it. Now just who the bloody hell is 'Moody'?" said his Uncle in a huff.  
  
"Mad Eye Moody? He's an old teacher of mine. I believe you met him at Kings Cross. Bowler hat, weird looking eye?" Harry spoke, choosing his words carefully as he pretended to look at the box with curiosity and surprise.  
  
It seemed to have worked. Petunia went pale and Vernon went purple. For a few moments it looked as of neither could find anything acceptable to say, therefore, Harry timidly stepped to the box and "examined" it. Just as he was about to pick up the box and carry it up to his room, his Uncle found his voice again.  
  
"Now you listen here, boy. I won't have you freaks sending things to MY home. There's no telling WHAT is in that box! Probably stuff that will explode or blow up!"  
  
Calmly anticipating this reaction, Harry looked at his Aunt before he tore the tape off the top of the big box. He hurriedly ripped it open before Uncle Vernon stopped sputtering nonsense of outrage and came to his senses.  
  
Peering into the cardboard container with Aunt Petunia leaning over his shoulder, Harry eyed pounds and pounds of clothes that looked to be his size.  
  
Aunt Petunia's sharp eye caught the name brand and pulled one of the shirts out to be examined, as if to be determined as a brand imitator or a wizarding brand that shared names. When she was satisfied that the clothes were indeed "normal" she let the shirt drop back into the box and shot a confused look at her husband who's eyes were wide with shock at having a stranger (who had met and threatened him before) send his nephew decent clothing.  
  
Harry hastily picked up the rather heavy box and hoisted it up onto his shoulder and climbed the steps to his bedroom before his relations could bombard his with questions concerning why he needed new clothes and why the clothes and things that had already been provided weren't good enough. He was halfway up the stairs when his Uncle bellowed, "BOY!"  
  
Harry froze in place and turned his hips so that he was facing his Uncle and Aunt who were still scrutinizing him.  
  
"Boy, tomorrow Marge will be visiting and I except you to stay in your room the ENTIRE time! We'll have none of your abnormality mussing up her stay this time! You will be brought your meals and let out only when we allow you to. Can't have Marge seeing you. We've told her you were made to stay at St. Brutus's year round. I'm sure you...understand this arrangement was made in all fairness."  
  
Harry could feel the blood rushing to his face, but he clamped it down with an iron fist. After all, he wouldn't have to swallow her insults if he was imprisoned, yet again, for the duration of her visit.  
  
"Yes, sir," was all Harry said in reply before resuming his attempt to escape.  
  
When he arrived in his room, he shut the door and dumped the box's contents onto his bed where he began sorting through the pile and trying them on. All in all, Harry was rather pleased with his purchases. The extra smalls that he bought were very tight, leaving no air in between his skin and the fabric. The smalls seemed to fit rather snuggly, but after wearing Dudley's leftover baggy jeans and t-shirts, Harry welcomed the fit. It made him feel as if he weren't so skinny. The mediums were still kind of tight across his chest but was comfortably loose else were. The few larges were loose all around, but yet, they very an extremely nice look compared to the sizes he had been wearing!  
  
The new wardrobe was folded carefully and placed on the floor to be packed into his trunk. Considering that his relatives were unnerved by the thought of a stranger sending Harry clothes, he saw no reason to waste his new clothes on them. It was then that he noticed a small cosmetic-like zippered bag. It was made of cheap black leather and had a handle at the side by its zipper. The contents turned out to be shampoo, shaving crème, a razor, and men's cologne. There was a note resting at the bottom of the black pouch. Harry picked it up and read.  
  
Dear Customer,  
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted as a frequent buyer! Please accept this free gift as a token of our appreciation. We hope to continue to benefit from your business in the future!  
  
Harry snorted at the letter, imagining himself buying new clothes every month just to have something expensive to wear, like Malfoy.  
  
The sun was just beginning to set as Harry finished magically rearranging, organizing, and expanding his trunk to fit all of his possessions. His books, of course, were left at the top of the pile for easy access.  
  
That done, Harry allowed himself to gather his new toiletries and head to the bathroom seeing as he wasn't sure how long Aunt Marge would be staying.  
  
When he was clean, he stepped out of the shower and studied the razor and shaving crème. Funnily enough, Harry had no idea how to shave. The directions told him what to do with it and so, Harry followed the directions guessing and inferring at how he supposed it was supposed to be done. He had once caused a "commotion" in the hallway, after being tripped by Dudley, that was loud enough to rouse Uncle Vernon, clad with white foam covering his chin and cheeks, from the bathroom to yell at him.  
  
In all actuality, the nearly sixteen year old boy had no clue as to whether or not he needed to be shaving yet, but then he remembered his practice as a metamorhagus. He could control his hair pretty much on command, but facial hair was a little tricky. He did have, he noticed, enough to work with but it was stubborn and refused to do what Harry commanded it to. Perhaps by shaving, he would be able to gain some sort of authority on his own bodily features.  
  
Five minuets later, a clean-shaven Harry emerged from the bathroom with only one minor cut. Had Harry been taught how to shave correctly, he would have known how truly amazing that feat really was.  
  
The truth was, even if Harry could maintain his appearance by magic, he found it a tranquil act that required some concentration, thus, reliving some of his stress.  
  
When he reached the door to Dudley's second bedroom, he lingered a moment before confining himself for nobody knows how long. As it was dark and Harry was already too tired to stay up another nigh in a row, Harry subjected himself to sleep the full night if he could.  
  
Harry quickly did his nightly repetitions of sit-ups and push-ups before climbing into bed and sleeping.  
  
The department of mysteries swam into view as the archway that held the dark veil came into focus. Harry stood, rooted to the ground as his Godfather fought his way around the room, dodging curses and mouthing hexes.  
  
Somehow Harry just knew that something bad was about to happen. He had to warn him!  
  
"Sirius! No! Sirius!"  
  
Sirius, still alive and in mid-duel with his cousin, Bellatrix, turned his head away from the fight in order to look at Harry and to hear what he was saying.  
  
"Watch out, Sirius! She's going to-"  
  
Harry's sentence was cut off by his own scream as Bellatrix took advantage of her cousin's distraction and sent a curse at him, hitting his square in the chest.  
  
Harry screamed when he saw the red light kill his Godfather.  
  
The bellowing of his Uncle and the crack of a belt rudely awakened him as it rained down on his bare back, facing upwards in his small bed.  
  
"Wake up you freakish boy! We won't have you screaming and stirring up trouble with the neighbors!"  
  
Crack! Another blow was laid upon Harry's smooth skin.  
  
"Marge is visiting tomorrow! You can't be bloody screaming in the middle of the night, boy!"  
  
He was now fully awake and could tell by the immense pain that Uncle Vernon had been trying to get him to wake up and stop yelling for a few minuets already. Though speaking out in pain was out of the question, Harry did manage to turn his head to the side and glare at his Uncle.  
  
The look and lack of sound was enough for his Uncle to stop his motion with the belt mid air. Then, as if he had a conscious, Vernon glanced down at the damage he had done, and winced but Harry knew the reason was not because he felt bad for Harry. No. He was scared of what would happen if Harry told Mad Eye, the stranger who threatened him and sent Harry name brand clothes. With out a word, the obese man strode out of the room and slammed the door shut behind him, leaving Harry to wipe the blood of his back on the same t-shirt he had used on his wrist and stare at the blackness around him contemplating his life...yet again. 


	7. Genealogy

~*Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling deserves all credit*~  
  
When Nightmares Are A Good Thing  
  
Chapter 7: Genealogy  
  
Long into the morning, Harry thought over the events of what had just happened. True, the nightmare was horrible but they had been happening every time he tried to sleep so Harry considered them a part of his normal everyday life. It was the part of the night when his Uncle whipped with a belt until he was very much awake and bloody for screaming, that was bothering him.  
  
Despite Uncle Vernon's fears, Harry had absolutely no intentions of sharing that information with anyone, if he could help it. Whatever his feelings for Dumbledore were, he had to agree that he was possibly safer inside the house of his mother's relatives. Besides, Harry knew that the majority would hand him sympathy on a platter, that is, if they cared at all.  
  
He couldn't really blame his Uncle for being angry at having his sleep interrupted. The belt was unnecessary, though. The way Harry looked at it, the whipping was probably deserved in one way or another. He couldn't really help the nightmare, but perhaps the beating was earned from some other non-related incident and Uncle Vernon was just the lucky guy who got to punish Harry for his transgressions the past year. Memories of his behavior with his friends, his selfishness, and the Department of Mysteries came flooding back to mind.  
  
Harry gave a start when the thump of Dudley clambering down the stairs was heard. The five hours since the belt incident had passed before Harry could even really realize it, as he was lost in thought.  
  
Improvision was used when it came to Harry's morning routine. Obviously, he wasn't about to pop in the kitchen for some coffee and marmalade toast. Therefore, Harry decided to attempt conjuring. The mug came easy, but the coffee wouldn't appear when he willed it to. A second mug then appeared in order for Harry to have a container for his coffee grinds and another for the water.  
  
When he discovered that, for the time being, it was best to only conjure simple items, Harry magiked all the things he needed to make breakfast in his room so that he could eat a little bit before he started his exercise.  
  
Push-ups made the skin on his back stretch painfully around the belt wounds but Harry was able to perform all of his repetitions. Sit-ups were achieved through the pain by lying down on top of an old t-shirt on his bed. When Harry would come to the part of the exercise where his back touched the bed, he would stop, hovering above the mattress and denying his skin the painful contact.  
  
There was about four of the whelps on his back that had been struck with enough force behind the belt that they were open wounds.  
  
Seeing that his blood-wiping towel was still slightly saturated with wet and dry blood, Harry fetched his book that contained some household spells. After finding the spell he was looking for, Harry mentally performed the incantation on the t-shirt that spelled it clean before dirtying it with the blood from his back.  
  
After Harry had successfully performed cleaning charms on his bed and himself, Harry dressed into some of his baggy leftover clothes and settled down (as comfortably as he could with the pain from his back) at his desk to continue looking up all the charms, spells, hexes, and curses that he had added to his list of things to practice.  
  
By noon Harry had worked himself ragged learning all of his new spells forewords and backwards. Although he still was doing it all wandlessly, it seemed to be more difficult than it would be with a wand but the results were better by tenfold.  
  
The only thing that was left on Harry's list of things to do was learn to apparate, but Harry decided to leave that lesson for tomorrow. Instead, he placed some strong silencing charms around his room and conjured up a potions station on his desk.  
  
The first items he brewed were the dreamless sleep, calming, pain numbing, and energy potions. Harry discovered that without Malfoy pestering him and Snape criticizing him during class, potions were fun and easy! It reminded him a little of the times when he had cooked meals for the Dursleys. It was simple, really. Just count out your ingredients and make sure you add them in at the right time and in the right order while you maintain the correct stirring pattern and temperature.  
  
Harry was just deciding which potion to make next when the sound of Uncle Vernon arrive home from work along with Aunt Marge. The boy scrambled about to place a strong locking charm on his door, just in case.  
  
As the sound of the Dursley's voices enjoying dinner drifted upstairs, Harry flipped through the book of sixth year potion that he had received, albeit Fred and George.  
  
The one that caught Harry's eye was a genetic potion that, when mixed with a drop of your blood, would etch you genealogy onto sheet of parchment, when splattered. As the teen had never heard of anyone but James and Lily, he was slightly curious.  
  
An hour later Harry had brewed the potion flawlessly, achieved by his extreme caution. He paced across his room in a bout of nervousness. What would he find? Who was he related to? What had happened to them all? They were all dead, he knew that much. Dumbledore had made sure not to let him believe that he had long lost relations that would save him from the Dursleys.  
  
He swallowed his conflicting emotions and took the knife that Sirius had given him for Christmas out of his trunk. True, the blade had melted for the unopenable door at the DoM, but the stub at the end was just what he needed. He held his arm over the enlarged parchment on his desk and slowly brought the stub of the knife over the scabbed wound on his wrist.  
  
He ignored the stab of pain and allowed the cut to drip crimson blood onto the paper. Then he quickly held the vial of the geneal potion over the artwork of blood and let a few fat drops splatter into the crimson. Instantly, there was a flash and scrawled handwriting filled the page along with blue, pink, green, red, yellow and purple colors.  
  
There at the bottom of the tree was his name: Harry James Potter written in purple. Above him, a blue line connected him to the middle of two names. The green name of James Harrison Potter had a green line linking him to the green name of Lily Marie Dumbledore. In shock, Harry jumped back from his desk in shock. DUMBLEDORE?! How was it possible for his mother to share a name with the headmaster?  
  
Reluctant as to see what he might, his eyes drifted to the names above his mothers. There in plain green ink were the names of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore and Minerva Athena McGonagall. 


	8. Reflection

~*Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling deserves all credit*~  
  
When Nightmares Are A Good Thing  
  
Chapter 8: Reflection  
  
The first thing Harry did, after he regained the ability to breathe, was remove the small box from underneath the loose floorboard and pull out one of the glass containers that held the muggle alcohol.  
  
After a rather large swig, Harry shook his head from side to side as if hoping to shake or invoke some sense of reality into his shocked mind. There was no way that his Head of House and Headmaster were really his Grandparents!  
  
Harry mentally placed a silencing charm around his room as he paced the length. He took another swallow of the bitter tasting substance that seemed to burn his throat welcomingly as it slid down. The ache seemed to dull the weight that appeared to have settled inside of his constricted chest.  
  
How could he have Grandparents and not have been told? Why did Dumbledore not want him to know? Surely he would have been more than happy to grant Harry with the one thing he had always wanted: a family. Seeing as Aunt Petunia was only his aunt, (and nonmagical at that) wouldn't he have been safer with two magical grandparents? Another thing, why was everyone so quick to tell him that all of his relations had died? Whenever he had gathered his courage to ask about the rest of his family, he was told that all he had was Petunia, Vernon, and Dudley.  
  
A sudden thought occurred to Harry. He strode over to his makeshift potions lab and picked up the parchment. He looked under the names of his Grandparents to see that there was, indeed, only one child by the name of Lily listed beneath them. So, in reality, was Harry NOT related to his 'Aunt' Petunia in any way? If so, how were the wards that surrounded Privet Drive number 4 still functioning if the family blood was not in possession by any of the other household members?  
  
Still brooding, Harry sank down onto his bed. He banished the bottled products from his potions work to his trunk and got rid of the table. There was a slight tingling feeling across his lips and his reactions seemed to be slowing down. In all truth, the feeling was rather odd. If Harry turned his head, it took twice as long for his brain to register what he was seeing. Oh sure, under aged drinking was probably not the way to deal with his emotions, but at that moment in time Harry Potter could have cared less.  
  
Bottle in hand, the teenager laid back on his bed and stared up at the ceiling while incoherently trying to sort figure out his emotions so that he could decide what to do about his new discovery.  
  
On one hand, if he were to confront the pair, they could pretend as if they had no idea what Harry was talking about and try to offer him help, not that Harry fully believed the geneal results yet.  
  
On the other, they could explain why they wanted nothing to do with him and tell him how sorry they feel for him. As much as Harry would have loved to have grown up with his grandparents, he also agreed with his subconscious in the sense that they shouldn't have been forced to look after Harry just because he was related to them. Nor "Aunt" Petunia, for that matter. Whoever was stuck with Harry would be the one burdened and would be in danger in times like these.  
  
All these thoughts were so confusing to Harry. His head seemed to ache just from thinking about it all. Blindly, he took another drink from the almost half gone bottle. The loud gale-like laugh of Marge was audible through the one way silencing charms.  
  
Harry slowly turned his head to see that the color of the sky was dark, outside of his window. After securing the cap on the alcoholic beverage, Harry placed it on his nightstand along with his shirt and glasses.  
  
His exercise routine that night were quite a challenge and took twice as long considering his slightly inebriated state, but Harry managed to get the job done before laying face down on his bed and subjecting himself to a much needed sleep.  
  
It was late in the morning of Wednesday when the sound of a meal being pushed through the cat flap in his door awoke him. A terrible throb in his head was the first thing Harry noticed about his body, as he tried to make his way to the door. He silently erected a fresh silencing charm before he made his way to the muggle aspirin that Fred and George had sent along his way.  
  
By the time he and his heavy body got around to the cat flap, Harry realized that there was not only a late breakfast plate waiting, but also last night's dinner and a small snack. Though the meals were nothing fancy (not even close to Mrs. Weasley or Hogwarts standards) they were certainly a very generous offering considering the past meals the Dursley's had forced him to bear. Harry guessed that the meals were a sort of meager peace offering, after Uncle Vernon's abuse...  
  
The full impact of what his uncle had done came crashing down on Harry. Abused. He had always been what adults called neglected, but never, outside of Dudley and his gang during "Harry Hunting", had his family actually struck him with such force like that. Thinking back, Aunt Petunia had swung a frying pan at him, nearly missing. She had slapped his cheek, once, for an excuse he had given when he had accidentally done magic. Even then, it was only a light blow that shook him to his sense to close his mouth. And, there was the starvation, poor clothing, and lack of correct bedding.  
  
With a sigh he glanced over the food and took a couple pieces of bacon and sausages to eat. We swallowed a bit of the milk along with the aspirin he had fetched before magically scourifying both plate's contents.  
  
In a daze, Harry went through the motions of his morning routine before pondering what sort of training to do, which would keep his mind off the previous actions of his relatives, and the shocking discovery of his grandparents.  
  
His eye fell on the books that were piled at the end of his bed by his trunk. Deciding to do some cleaning and organizing, Harry took everything out of his trunk, and then began sorting through them. The old cloths from Dudley were set far away from his, in a pile across the room. His books were stacked at his feet, and all his possessions and gifts were laid gently on his bed.  
  
Harry suddenly realized that all of his things were going to be crammed into his trunk, unless he enlarged it. So, he opened the book that held household spells and found the charm that would either enlarge a space, or create a second.  
  
He thought the incantation clearly, and focused on making a secret second compartment to his trunk. On inspection, Harry saw no difference and slammed the lid shut in frustration. Defeating Voldemort for the wizarding world was going to be difficult enough as it was, but even more so if he couldn't follow directions.  
  
He pushed his anger aside using his occlumency relaxing technique, and opened his trunk again to continue his effort. As he looked down into it, he realized that this was not the same compartment.  
  
Curious. Harry threw a book into the bottom and closed the lid. He concentrated on the compartment that his trunk had been made with. He opened the lid to discover it there again! Another repetition of that proved that all Harry had to do was focus on which compartment he wanted, lid closed or not! He was slightly shocked to see the previous book materialize in the bottom of compartment two without him closing the lid yet.  
  
His confidence in his magical abilities reinforced, Harry decided to used the second space to place any thing that he wanted kept secret in. So, the alcohol, the remaining packs of cigarettes, aspirin, his last will and testament, the letters to all his friends in case of his death, all the letters that he had ever received, his potion from the day before, his mirror and knife (that he refused to attempt to repair), invisibility cloak, marauders map, photo album, and his dream journal were all secured in place.  
  
The original compartment held his new clothing, books, broom polishing kit, sneakoscope, Weasley sweaters, and other various keepsakes.  
  
As he turned away from the completed task he was greeted by the sight of his Dursley hand-me-downs, his "blood towel" placed on top.  
  
He hastily sorted through the worn tents and picked out the best of the shirts and pants to store in his trunk, should he ever need them. The rest was chucked into the bottom of his wardrobe to be left when he went to King's Cross.  
  
When that was done, Harry, who's back was feeling better due to the aspirin that was starting to work, decided to focus on his dueling book.  
  
The day passed with little event. Dudley had shown up not long after Harry had started reading to unlock his room and usher him to the bathroom, as Marge was not to leave until the evening train.  
  
The look on Dudley's face was the same as it usually was, but his voice seemed to lack the duress that had been present in the past when taunting Harry. He wondered briefly if he knew of the events that had taken place in the house recently.  
  
During Harry's reading through of his "Dueling for Experts" he found a particularly interesting spell that would cause one's opponent momentarily devoid of all senses. He made a mental note to himself to try that one out the next time he had a partner and could practice magic without fear of getting into trouble or his secret abilities being discovered. Ron and Hermione were perfect candidates for the job.  
  
Though he did read the entire book and memorize most of the curse within it, Harry had a hard time concentrating. As soon as he would get away from his thoughts, something in the text would trigger his memory again. Surely any normal person would be reminded of their Uncle's belt lashing if they read the words "results in large welts, bruises, gashes, and freely bleeding cuts."  
  
Around seven there was the usual fussy noise of conversation as Aunt Marge started in on her hour long good bye to Aunt Petunia and Dudley.  
  
Harry put his recent dreams into consideration. It seemed that he was doing rather well lately, therefore he decided to go to sleep a little early after his routine, thinking he would possibly sleep with only one nightmare of either Sirius, his parents, or Cedric. How very wrong he was.  
  
Not thirty minuets after the boy fell asleep did he start thrashing around, clutching his forehead in the midst of a vision. This is how Petunia found the boy, when she opened the door and walked past the silencing wards to feed the boy his nightly meal and allow him access to the loo, not that the danger of Marge seeing him was past.  
  
Harry awoke to the feel of his back aching, his heart pounding, and his scar throbbing. He looked up to see the blonde hair of his aunt above him.  
  
"S-Sorry Aunt Petunia, I didn't mean to wake you," the boy managed to mutter between the involuntary shudders his body was giving as a reply to the dream he had had. In truth, had he not just had woken up in pain and with a task at hand to perform, he would have considered why his Aunt was there in the first place and would have wondered if his silencing charm had failed.  
  
But as he remembered the nightmare, he forced his body out of the bed and to his desk where he fumbled with his quill and parchment as he wrote the following letter.  
  
Headmaster Dumbledore,  
  
You asked to be informed of my visions...Here goes.  
  
I was standing in a room that seemed to be a dungeon; very dark, dank, and dirty. I felt very... murderous and the next person that walked in, I hit with a killing curse. I was very angry at the man under the mask for something. I don't know why, exactly. A few more people apparated into the room when I summoned them, again I am not entirely sure as to who was under these mask, but I KNOW one was Bellatrix Lestrange. I'd know her voice-  
  
Here Harry left the rest of the sentence out, in order to keep the world from knowing that her heard her taunt her cousin to his death almost every night in his sleep.  
  
-Well, she was one of them. I told the ones present that I wanted a tighter reign on some prisoner. After I...well, crucioed and tortured some of them for whatever they had done to dissatisfy me, I explained that I wanted no slip ups in the upcoming mission that if I were to pull of the master plan, I would need all loyal followers at hand. Personally, I think I was referring to the death eaters in Azkaban. It was near the end of the vision that I caught a glimpse of myself in a puddle of water on the floor of the room. I had red eyes, and looked just like Voldemort. That's when I realized that I WAS Voldemort! I was woke up before he felt me there, I believe. If he did realize I was there, he didn't get much of a chance to do anything. That's all of the details about the nightma ...dream I had.  
  
Harry  
  
Forgetting that his Aunt was still sitting on his bed, Harry rolled up the parchment and walked as best as he could over to where Hedwig was resting on the windowsill. HE considered placing a locking charm on the scroll, but then Dumbledore would know of his ability to do wandless magic and that was something he wished to keep private so that he could sculpt it into a secret weapon.  
  
"Hedwig, girl, I need you to take this to Professor Dumbledore as fast as you can. Got it?"  
  
Hedwig bobbed her head once and flew up to Harry's arm so that he could attach the letter.  
  
"Be careful out there. I don't want you getting attacked again. Only the Headmaster should read this. Can I count on you?"  
  
The snowy owl lightly nipped his ear in an affectionate manner before making a quick and swift exit through the opened window.  
  
With a sigh, Harry turned around considering what to do when he remembered his Aunt sitting on his bed with a plate in her hands.  
  
"I'm...err, sorry to wake you." Harry said plainly while watching his Aunt stare though him.  
  
He cautiously walked back to his bed and sat down to go back to sleep, or rather to pretend to still be sleepy so that his Aunt would end this strange happening.  
  
What did happen though was very confusing for Harry. He felt bony fingers ghost over the not quite closed wounds on his back in silence which lasted for roughly tens seconds before his Aunt thrust the plate into his hands and bolted the room and slammed the door.  
  
Harry glanced down at the plate and noticed it was full of fresh food. Too bad this had not occurred during a summer when he actually had an appetite.  
  
He sat the food on his bed's table, before going to his trunk and opening the second compartment. Before reaching in the darkness, Harry had the sense to turn his light on for a moment. The large red scab on his wrist reminded him of what had happened before. Harry selected a pain numbing potion and a dreamless sleep that were both about halfway filled.  
  
When he was settled in his bed again, Harry swallowed the pain numbing potion first, sighing with relief. He shook his head knowing that he couldn't live his life dependent on potions for whatever it was in his life that caused his pain or grief. Therefore he only drank a half-mouthful of the dreamless sleep. The smaller dose allowed his a few moments to relax into the pillow and ponder about what was going to happen now. 


	9. Farewell to Familar Surroundings

~*Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling deserves all credit*~  
  
When Nightmares Are A Good Thing  
  
Chapter9: Farewell to familiar surroundings  
  
When morning dawned, Harry Potter awoke fully aware of the pain his body was in. His head still throbbed with the after affects of his nightmare and alcohol, the welts and cuts on his back stung sharply from being lain on long after the numbing had dissipated, and his stomach seemed to be pulsating with spasms for some odd reason, unknown to him.  
  
Harry completely skipped over the fact that he hadn't eaten practically anything over a large amount of time, seeing as he had been forced to do that to some extent as a child, as the cause for his abdomen discomfort. The teenage boy decided, instead, that the combination of aspirin, alcohol, pain numbing and dreamless sleep potions, and nightmares did NOT fare well together. In some aspects, he was right.  
  
The boy allowed himself to lay in bed for an hour thinking perhaps the pain would pass, seeing as he did not want to take any more potions or medicines for many reasons. The first being he didn't want to be addicted to anything and the second being that was why he assumed he felt this way to begin with.  
  
After a while he forced himself up and conjured his coffee (or rather the ingredients, waiting to be assembled) to drink before going about his typical morning.  
  
Though his movements were slow, Harry did make it through his morning. He had brushed up on his potions book again to see what sorts of potions were addictive and which would not mix well with others. The pain numbing, he discovered, was not addictive but the copious amounts of aconite that were in it always reacted badly with any type of potion containing nightshade, the main component in dreamless sleep.  
  
Following the uncovering of his potions mistake, Harry focused on memorizing defensive and offensive spells and curses from the DADA book he had received from Sirius and Remus for Christmas the past year. Some of them he was already familiar with, as he had taught them to the DA, but there a few the he felt were worth memorizing just in case.  
  
Finally, Harry came across the incantation for the binding spell he had seen used by Dumbledore to keep the death eaters from fleeing the DoM. A little bit of practice was clearly required. Harry could cast the spell, efficiently stopping the book and pillow on his bed from apparating, but Harry was in a fix as to see whether or not it would stop a wizard from doing magic. He could try it on himself, but wouldn't wandless magic disable anyone's anti- apparation/magic bind? If so, he could prove nothing. Also, what if he COULDN'T undo the spell. He could just hear himself explaining to Fudge and the Order now...  
  
"Honestly, it was accident! I just got spooked and thought I was death eater trying to capture myself so I cast a binding spell to stop myself from escaping! See, I've turned myself in, even thought I'm NOT a death eater!"  
  
The imagery of that scene was almost enough to make Harry laugh before picking undoing the spell and retrieving his book for some more studying.  
  
The sound of a plate being shoved through the flap in his door demanded Harry's attention. As soon as he jerked his head up, Harry realized how sore his muscles were from one thing or another. Reading with his head down had not helped any. Therefore, he decided a hot shower was in order. He hadn't even noticed, until then, that it had been about a week since he'd bathed.  
  
Harry turned the doorknob to find the many locks on his room were all unlocked. He trudged down the hall to the bathroom and closed the door behind him.  
  
Fifteen minuets later the green-eyed child was relaxing under the crystal droplets of water, mesmerized as they crashed onto his skin only to dance while they slid down his body.  
  
When he reached up to wash his hair he was startled to feel something prickly scratch across the sensitive skin that covered the back of his hand.  
  
"Perhaps I ought to shave when I-"  
  
His thoughts were cut short when a shrill scream was heard from downstairs. Without a second thought, Harry shut off the water, grabbed a towel and ran out of the bathroom with his wand in hand and at the ready.  
  
Using one hand he struggled to hold the towel around his waist as he ran down the hall, all the time thinking the worst.  
  
In record time, Harry reached the top landing of the stairs and skidded to a stop, wand arm outstretched with his beloved wand level with his throat but pointing down in the direction of the sitting room.  
  
A moment's glance was enough to utterly relieve Harry of the ill situation he had imagined. There below him, was his Aunt Petunia lying on the ground frozen with the leg-locking curse, with Mad Eye Moody standing over her. Near him stood Remus Lupin and Tonks.  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow in question and was rewarded with the growled reply; "She was making a right racket when she answered the door, that one there!" from Moody.  
  
Sighing in relief that death eaters weren't outwardly invading him, the teenaged wizard thought it best to make sure they were who they appeared to be.  
  
Keeping his wand in position, he tuned his attention to Remus Lupin.  
  
"Um, Professor Lupin, may I ask you what type of creature you had in your office third year during a discussion we had during a Hogsmede trip?"  
  
A weary grazed the worn man's face as he considered the question.  
  
"Ah. I believe you would be referring to the grindylow. Or could you be implying the Bogart that I kept for our ...patronizing "study" sessions?"  
  
Harry tilted his head in doubt. Perhaps he should ask another question to be on the safe side. "The grindylow. We were interrupted that day. Who was it and what did they want?"  
  
The smile grew as Remus Lupin answered, with a hesitation. "That would be Severus, who was bringing me my goblet of wolfs bane potion."  
  
In acceptance, Harry nodded his head. He glanced over at Tonks, who was staring at him with her mouth partly open. Moody, whose magical eye was inspecting the house for potential dangers, had his normal eye locked on Harry's face.  
  
"Professor Lupin, are they who they appear to be?" Harry asked.  
  
"Yes Harry, they are Moody, Tonks, and Severus."  
  
It was then Harry saw his potions professor step out of the shadows that belonged to the door connecting the sitting room to the kitchen.  
  
The boy stared at the man for a moment before acknowledging that the man was in his relative's house.  
  
"Potter."  
  
"Snape."  
  
"That's PROFFESSOR Snape, to you. If you are dense enough to still call the werewolf by the title surly we can get you to remember to give respect to those who...deserve it," Snape sneered as he glared at Harry and Lupin.  
  
The werewolf took a tentative step forward as he spoke up, "Actually, he's right, Harry. You SHOULD call him Professor Snape, while I am not your professor anymore. I haven't been for almost three years now. I would prefer if you called me by my name. Remus, Lupin, or even Moony would be fine."  
  
Once again, Harry nodded his head in acceptance. He glanced over to find that Tonks' eyes were still focused on him.  
  
"Um, Tonks?"  
  
With a jerk, Tonks snapped to attention. "Wotcher, Harry!" She blushed.  
  
Harry rubbed a hand over his rough chin in confusion at the distinct coloring in the witch's face.  
  
A silky baritone interrupted his bewilderment. "Potter, perhaps it would be easier for us all if we were to escort you back to a different location WITH clothes on."  
  
The raven-haired boy started to retort some nasty comment back to Snape about being thankful it wasn't HIM who was naked, but the memory that he was wearing only a towel shocked him. It wasn't as if that were a hard thing to forget.  
  
HE could feel heat in his cheeks as he started to mumble and apology only to hear his father's old friend chuckle lightly at his embarrassment.  
  
"You are certainly related to Lily! If I know James, HE would most definitely would not have blushed like that!"  
  
That was when Snape decided to join in. "I do believe that arrogant fool would have gone as far a masquerading around Hogwarts in a towel, if it would have brought him any attention whatsoever."  
  
Moody cleared his throat roughly and loudly, as if to alert the two bickering that he had short patience.  
  
"Right, well...Perhaps you should get packed then Harry," Remus said, while looking at the floor.  
  
The distant look on his face told Harry exactly what he was considering asking. "So, its to um...that place, then?"  
  
"Yes, "was the dejected reply.  
  
A bright red Tonks added, "I would offer my flawless packing abilities but you seem to have other...requirements at the moment."  
  
A snicker came from Remus as Snape shook his head in disbelief that the near naked body of a fifteen-year-old boy could embarrass a young female auror.  
  
"Do hurry, Potter. You have approximately fifteen minuets to get prepared," Snape warned.  
  
"Yes, sir. Do you think you could cast the counter spell on my aunt? I don't really want her all shook up. It's a good thing he had to drive Dudley somewhere. Other wise there would be many more...complications to work through," Harry explained.  
  
Remus kindly agreed as he unbound Petunia from the spell. When she realized that she could move she jumped to her feet and ran to the kitchen, not looking back one.  
  
Harry ran a hand through his hair as he watched the scene before him. The large maroonish-yellow scab on his wrist caught his attention, which reminded him of the pain in his back.  
  
"Perhaps I should not let anyone see those," Harry thought to himself.  
  
He began walking backwards down the hall, careful to keep his chest in sight and his back hidden, his wand still in his hand. When he was out of sight, he turned around and walked to his room quickly. He opened the door and shut with enough force to be certain it was shut, causing the pad locks on it to jingle against each other.  
  
The first thing on his agenda was to alter his appearance where Moody would hopefully not be able to see through it. His eyes trained on the mirror in his wardrobe, he concentrated on changing his skin so that it appeared normal.  
  
Opening the eyes that he hadn't realized he'd closed, Harry could see flawless skin with the exception of little pink lines that weaved a pattern on his back. He could still feel the cuts and welts, although.  
  
Harry started to alter the appearance of his wrist, but changes his mind. The scab that promised to be a scar was like a reminder of his fallen Godfather, as it came from his mirror. Yes, that mark was important for Harry to see, to use as a memento from the mistakes he had made and the harm he had done to others and himself.  
  
The dark circles under his rhiane colored eyes were a different story. They clearly told that he wasn't sleeping like he should. He most certainly did not want anyone's sympathy over his nightmares. Therefore he changed his purple bags into even skin that matched that of the color in the rest of his face.  
  
Now that Harry had hidden pretty much everything that gave away his despair, he turned his attention to his clothing. Inside his trunk's first compartment were his new cloths. Harry quickly pulled out a pair of the new boxers, and socks to put one. Then he considered what would cover his wrist wound the best. He picked up long, black button up collared shirt and one of the tight coal colored t-shirts.  
  
Rummaging carefully as not to upset the order of his trunk, Harry finally came across what he was looking for. The black dragon leather pants and boots.  
  
The spell that Fred and George had explained about went into effect immediately when Harry had them on and buttoned in place. The first thought that had popped into his head after the leather had deceased shrinking, was that they had shrank too much. They were a great deal tighter than any of the pant he had been used to wearing! He sighed, as he laced the boots up, which also shrank to his size.  
  
Now that he was dressed Harry scooped up all of the extra items from his desk and beside table only to them in the respective trunk compartment. When he was sure that everything that belonged to him was in his trunk, save the extra hand-me-down clothing from Dudley that now resided in the bottom of his wardrobe, Harry ran his fingers through his still wet hair. He placed his wand in the inside of his right boot where he could reach it if needed. A glance in the mirror told Harry that he was all set to leave.  
  
Harry heaved up the heavy trunk and struggled to carry the weight down the stairs with Hedwig's cage (Hedwig of whom Harry had released out the window to meet him at headquarters) balanced on top of it and into the quiet sitting room. When he placed his belongings at the feet of his father's best friend, he glanced up to find that they were all eyeing him funny.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Well, Harry, if you don't mind me asking, what's with the uncharacteristic outfit?" Remus asked him.  
  
"Oh, um, I figured if we were flying like last year the dragon's skin might come in handy, if we were ambushed that is," Harry answered, an embarrassed look upon his young face.  
  
"CONSTANT VIRGILANCE! That's what I like to see boy!" Moody yelled suddenly, startling everyone in the room, save Snape who was very skilled at guarded his emotions.  
  
Harry gulped and nodded. Snape uncrossed his arms as he walked over to where Harry stood. He sneered down at the youth as he reached into his robes only to pull out an empty Bertie Bott's every flavor bean box.  
  
"Unfortunately for you, Potter, we are not flying but are coming the way we came; by portkey. We have about two minutes before it reactivates."  
  
"Well, I erm, guess I should explain to my aunt," Harry said as he trudged into the kitchen where he found her sitting at the table, staring into space.  
  
"Aunt Petunia, they have come to pick me up, okay?"  
  
Nothing was said so Harry walked back to the door. As he opened it, he muttered a "Bye," over his shoulder. A soft, "Sorry," was barley audible, but Harry heard as he stepped back into the room with the other wizards.  
  
Sorry? Why did his aunt say "Sorry,"? He was interrupted in his musings by Snape's "Hurry up, insolent brat!"  
  
Harry hastily jogged over to the group of wizards and witch. He placed one hand on his trunk, as Tonks grabbed hold of Hedwig's cage. Harry winced as he reached a shaky hand out to touch the candy box. Memories of the tri wizard tournament and Cedric flashed through his mind. He forced a wall up around his mind and focused on breathing levelly. In a matter of seconds a jerk was felt behind his navel, and he was instantly gone. 


	10. Dinner at Headquaters

**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling deserves all credit  
**

**When Nightmares Are A Good Thing  
**

**Chapter 10: Dinner at Headquarters**

****

Harry's feet slammed into the floor of the entryway in the "Most Noble and Ancient House of Black". The arm of Remus Lupin stopped him from toppling over face first. Mrs. Black's screaming reached his ears just as his port key disorientation started ebbing away.  
  
It was blatantly obvious that some of the color had been restored to Grimmauld 12, but to Harry, it seemed that it still retained some of its eeriness. Though, he assumed that was due mostly to the absence of his Godfather.  
  
After only a moment of looking around at the changes, Harry was nearly bulldozed over by a large mother hen going with the name of Molly.  
  
"Oh, Harry dear! How are you? It must have been dreadful with those muggles. You're so thin! You must be hungry, not to worry though, we're going to get some food in you now!"  
  
Once he had extracted himself from her embrace, and lost the blue tinting in his face due to lack of air supply, Harry was immediately swept up into another embrace. Although this time, the attacker was in possession of a mass quantity of sleek brown hair.  
  
Harry was quite used to sympathy hugs, as they were the only kind he had been given, subjected himself to the arms tightening around his neck, pinning his arms straight at his side. It took a few seconds for Harry to do a double take at the person who had him wrapped up. Gently, he pulled an arm up and pushed the second party away.  
  
"Hermione?"  
  
She most certainly had changed! Her hair, while it was still very thick, no longer bore resemblance to the way it used to look. Before it had been large, thick, bushy, and very frizzy. Now, it was completely straight, longer, shiny, sleek, and was very volumized. A true smile was beaming off of his best friend's face showing off the corrections that had been made by Madame Pomfrey, unintentionally of course, in fourth year.  
  
It was hard for Harry to believe that the girl in front of him was the same that he had seen in June.  
  
"Wow, Hermy, you look great!" Harry spoke softly.  
  
"Thank you, Harry. You proved my theory wrong. Boys _are_ capable of noticing significant changes in appearance!"  
  
He was about to reply that whoever did not notice needed a reality check when he realized that it must have been Ron that she was referring to.  
  
With a shrug of his shoulders, Harry tilted his head and said, "Well, it's really hard to _not _notice that you are even more beautiful than when I saw you last."  
  
He felt a little odd telling Hermione that, as it was usually the sort of things he thought but never commented on, but decided to do start saying them more often as the result was another engulfing hug from the female before him and a red faced Ron, that he saw from the corner of his eye.  
  
Hermione hugged Harry for as long as a friendly hug was allowed to be before pulling back. On her way back she must have grazed the side of Harry's face because she instantly grabbed her own soft looking cheek and muttered an, "OW!"  
  
Confused as to what he could have possibly done to hurt Hermione but simply standing and allowing her to hug him, Harry lifted a hand to rub across his chin in thought. It was met by prickly stubble.  
  
"Sorry, Mione. My time in the loo was cut short tonight by an impromptu gathering of wizards and witches in the Dursley's sitting room," Harry explained getting a laugh from Tonks, Remus, Molly, Hermione, and even a short chuckle from Moody that sounded more like an improperly tuned piano.  
  
After she withdrew her arms from Harry's neck, she too rubbed her hand across the slight shadow that had taken over Harry's face due to lack of shaving for a couple of days. Hermione grinned at him before stepping back to let someone else greet the new visitor.  
  
A red-faced Ron came forward to wring Harry's hand.  
  
"Good to have you back, Mate!" Ron smiled.  
  
Harry nodded his answer as it was good to see Ron but not good to be back.  
  
An awkward silence fell over the group gathered in the entrance hall of headquarters. Harry was about to ask Ron to carry Hedwig's cage to their room while he lugged his trunk, but was interrupted by the arrival of two more.  
  
There in front of him stood the two people who he had respected and trusted, now known to him as his Grandparents. The two people, who had kept their relation to him a secret as he suffered in a home that was rich of a never-ending supply of neglectful treatment for him, were now gazing at him in the void.  
  
Dumbledore was going to try to talk to him Harry just knew it. Desperate for something to delay the uncomfortable conversation, Harry spied Ginny standing across from him, next to Hermione.  
  
The feelings that rose in Harry were so new and fresh. It seemed Hermione was not the only one who had changed over the Holidays. The difference in Ginny's appearance were all-natural, while he suspected Hermione had been bullied into one of those hair salons that women like Aunt Petunia often went to. In place of angles were curves, and it seemed that even though Ginny had always been petite, she had a very slender look to her.  
  
Taking a tentative step towards Ginny, Harry did two things he that he couldn't remember the last time he had done it. Harry's face broke into a real smile. Ginny returned the smile as Harry slowly made his way towards her in the silence.  
  
He couldn't believe that this was Ginny Weasley. How much she had changed! Why hadn't he noticed before?  
  
Wrapping his arms tightly around her small waist, Harry embraced her tightly, efficiently lifting her an inch off the ground.  
  
"It's good to see you, "Ginny said.  
  
Harry whispered softly in her ear as not to be heard by the crowd watching, "This is the first time I have ever done this before."  
  
Ginny was obviously confused as to what he was talking about. She took a moment to consider before she spoke back, "I've seen you smile before Harry. It may seem like forever, but you have done it before."  
  
Harry, with his arms still encircling her waist, pulled back enough to see her face.  
  
"No, I meant I've never given a hug before," he whispered gently.  
  
Ginny beamed brightly at him before replying, "Glad to be a first!"  
  
The patented Potter lopsided grin took possessed Harry's lips, retrieving a sharp in take of breath from Ginny.  
  
It was then that Harry realized that the gathered crowd had witnessed the display between Ginny and himself. He released her and glanced at the people that were in his line of view.  
  
Quickly, to avoid the start of a conversation from Dumbledore, who was most certainly standing behind him, Harry said, "Want to help me get my things up to our room, mate?"  
  
Molly Weasley interrupted Ron's answer by interjecting, "Actually, Harry dear, you won't be in that room anymore. Come, I'll show you."  
  
So, he bent over and heaved his trunk up in one arm and grasped Hedwig's cage with the other. Walking up the stairs proved to be a challenge, but Harry's willpower and determination to not show weakness in front of the crowd allowed him to manage.  
  
By the time Molly had stopped outside his room, Harry was sure he would pass out. He felt lightheaded and slightly sick at his stomach, but he did not show it.  
  
"We thought it would be best if you and Ron were allowed your own rooms. Growing boys need space, you know," Mrs. Weasley said. "Dinner will be ready in about ten minuets, dear."  
  
Having said that, Mrs. Weasley pushed the door open for Harry before leaving him to settle in.  
  
The first thing Harry noticed was the room's color scheme was Gryffindor's red and gold. There was a slight layer of dust in the room, as it probably hadn't been slept in since an order member had used it. Harry set his trunk at the end of the bed that was resting in the center of the room. There was a night table to it's right and a chest of drawers to it's left. One of the adjoining walls held a desk and the other a wardrobe. In the far right corner of the room was an ancient full-length mirror.

With a sigh Harry sat down on the bed and ran his finger through his still damp hair. The room was giving off an odd comfortable/safe feeling. Then, with a tremendous pang, Harry realized why. This had been Sirius's room. Going with his instinct, he assumed it had been his childhood room. The familiar burning sensation behind his eyes explained that he needed to cry, but Harry simply reminded himself that he was at headquarters with practically the entire Order and Weasley family, not to mention Hermione.  
  
He stood up and walked over to the mirror. In front of him stood a stranger, rarely seen his own eyes. The wood around the mirror seemed to be old and worn. The teenager walked over to the desk and ran his fingertips over the matching wood softly.  
  
Shaking his head to wake himself from drifting deeper into thoughts and from drowning in sorrow, Harry trudged out of the room and back down the steps.  
  
When Harry reached the kitchen he noticed that everyone had started eating. There was a seat open next Dumbledore and one open in-between Ron and Hermione as well. Harry hastily took the seat with his friends, purposefully keeping his eyes downcast so that the Headmaster would not catch his eye or try to lure him into a conversation.  
  
There was much conversation taking place when Harry sat down. It seemed that he had intruded upon another of Ron and Hermione's meaningless arguments. The boy used this to his advantage as he piled very small helping of food onto his plate and spread them out to look like more. Only when there was a bite on his fork did Harry tune in to their voices.  
  
"Honestly, Ron! Astronomy is a very useful subject! It's vital that we do good on that owl!"  
  
With a snicker, Harry interjected, "What are you going to do if you turn out to have an exceeds expectations for it on your owls, Herm? Demand a retest due to wicked toads attempted to put fear into a half giant and the headmistress?"  
  
Ron roared with laughter while Ginny, who was sitting across from them chuckled. Hermione, however, looked thoughtful.  
  
"You know, that is not a bad idea! It WAS a very distracting display of mutiny. I could start a petition getting all the signatures from those who were distracted and want another chance to earn their proper test score!"  
  
With a slow smile, Harry teased, "Whatever you say..._RAVENCLAW_!"  
  
The comment did not go by unnoticed by the rest of the table. Silence rang while Hermione's face distorted into shock, anger, hurt, and slight disgust.  
  
"Oh yeah? Look who talking..._SLYTHERIN_!" Hermione retorted.  
  
Ron could not hold back his gale of laughter that broke the void.  
  
Hermione and Harry turned to look at Ron who was laughing so hard, his face and ears were camouflaged with his hair.  
  
It was Hermione who spoke next by saying, "Why are you laughing, Ron? I'm sure you had to talk the sorting hat out of placing you in Hufflepuff."  
  
This time the entire table laughed as Ron's ears turned even redder.  
  
"Well, at least I would have been in a house where they're allowed to have fun, unlike you two," Ron sneered.  
  
"So you DID have to talk it out of Hufflepuff?" Harry questioned.  
  
Feelings as if he'd incriminated himself enough already, Ron started shoveling food into his mouth with renewed gusto.  
  
Laughing at his friends antics, Harry quietly went back to making it appear as if he were hungry and eating all the while, the sharp burning in his stomach was intensifying.  
  
Harry pondered for a moment how to get out of dinner without being forced to eat too much as well as it going by unnoticed. In the end he decided he'd have to sacrifice some part of himself, therefore in the middle of the meal he put his right elbow on the table and propped his head in his hand.  
  
Precisely five seconds after this display, Mrs. Weasley prompted, "Harry, dear, are you all right?"  
  
Harry purposefully delayed his response the correct amount of time a person who was sleepy would have and answered, "Hmmm?"  
  
The messy haired boy let his eyes flutter a few times as if trying to awaken himself from a daydream.  
  
Molly Weasley smiled motherly at him before suggesting, "Why don't you head on up to bed, dear? You must be tired."  
  
Figuring he'd do the rouse right, Harry replied, "Oh, no. I'm not tired Mrs. Weasley. I'm fine!"  
  
A frown over came the matron's face as she pointed a finger in Harry's direction and said, "I'll have none of that, young man! You get yourself upstairs and sleep!"  
  
Harry tried not to smile as he slowly walked "sleepily" up to his new room. He had gotten the exact behavior that he had hoped for. Maybe the sorting hat had a point with him and Slytherin.


	11. Scar Issues

****

**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling deserves all credit  
  
When Nightmares Are A Good Thing**

****  
  
Chapter 11: Scar Issues  
  
Harry's first night back at headquarters could only be described as restless and miserable. The incessant burning in his stomach promised to be constant, even when Harry had done nothing to upset it. He nearly didn't finish all of his sit-ups because the pain was utterly blinding and when he found he wasn't going to be able to sleep, the usual coffee that he conjured and mixed for himself would not stay down, making the stinging afflictions bite harder than before.  
  
The first stirrings of the household were observed, Harry put the book he had been reading to pass the night back into his trunk and started getting ready for breakfast, though no appetite was felt.  
  
Green eyes flitted through the clothes in his trunk deciding on a pair of baggy blue jeans and a long sleeved rust red button up shirt with a crisp white tee shirt underneath. Tucking his shirttail in and slipping his wand into his large back pocket- despite Moody's warning last summer- Harry tied the shoelaces on his brown boots and made his way to the basement kitchen.  
  
It seemed the only ones awake were Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Tonks, Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Remus.  
  
They all seemed to be rather surprised to see Harry up with the first light of day but welcomed him to the table. When Molly apologized for breakfast not being cooked yet, Harry told her not to worry about it and that he'd eat when the rest woke up. Inside his head he was thinking that way it would be easier to disguise his lack of hunger.  
  
"So, Harry how was your summer?" Tonks blurted out. She immediately clapped her hand over her mouth in apology.  
  
Harry sighed silently before replying, "It was fine, thanks."  
  
Remus picked up on the need for a subject change by inquiring about what Harry thought he'd get on his owls.  
  
"A P in Astronomy, History of Magic, and Divination. An A in Potions and Herbology and probably an E in Transfiguration, Care of Magical Creatures, and Defense Against the Dark Arts," he'd answered calmly.  
  
"I'm sure they won't be as low as you think. Especially your DADA. I think you'll most defiantly get an O on it, if nothing else," Remus said.  
  
Harry shook his head, "Profess-"  
  
"Remus or Moony."  
  
"Right, um Remus, I didn't exactly learn anything in DADA last year. Unless you count how to spell the same line as you write it over and over again. I think that has to be the most tedious detention teachers use. If you have an itch to give a detention, be creative! Even Filch comes up with better things than that!"  
  
A chuckle came from the werewolf's throat. "Your father once said the same thing, though he had about as many detentions as you do trips to the hospital wing."  
  
Harry smiled slightly at him. "Well, the lines were a good punishment. They were just extremely dull and monotonous."  
  
"Monotonous?"  
  
Harry jerked his head towards the door to see Hermione, Ron, Ginny and the twins enter the room.  
  
Hermione went into lecture mode. "Yes, Ron. Its means repetitive and redundant." She turned to look at Harry suspiciously. "What exactly was monotonous, Harry?"  
  
Before he could answer Tonks took up the task for him by saying, "His detentions with Umbridge."  
  
"Oh, so you've finally decided to tell an adult about that infernal –"  
  
Her sentence was cut off as Harry leapt out of his seat and covered her mouth with his hand.  
  
"Yes, Hermione. They now know about all of the detentions I spent writing lines."  
  
His hand was peeled away quickly as she glared at him.  
  
Ron decided to join in. "You mean they STILL don't know the whole story yet? You really ought to tell them, mate. I mean, they could put her in Azkaban or something."  
  
Harry could smell defeat as the entire room recoiled at the notion that something horrible enough to earn Azkaban Prison had been inflicted upon Harry by Umbridge and was purposefully being kept a secret from them. He swallowed as he slowly turned around to face them. There was no way he could worm his way out of this one. They would bring in Dumbledore if he put up a fight to divulge the information, but yet he couldn't quite bring himself to offer it willingly. Thankfully he did not have to think on it any longer as his best friends took action.  
  
Ron came up behind him and wrapped a hand around his left arm and placed the other on his shoulder to prevent him from fleeing. Meanwhile Hermione tool hold of his other wrist (Thankfully above his scab) and positioned the white scars on his hand for public viewing.  
  
A gasp made its way around the room as the entire room's guests jumped out of their seats to get a better look at the words written on his hand, "I must not tell lies."  
  
It was a full minuet before anyone spoke as no one was quite sure what to say. Though, Harry was sputtering indignation of anger in his own mind and thoughts.  
  
"Lad, you'd best sit down and tell us the whole story," Moody growled.  
  
Balling his fists tightly, Harry turned to Ron and Hermione of whom his anger was directed toward. He was rather thankful that they forced him to show his scar (if only to keep him from having to do I willingly) but at the same time was upset that they hadn't kept their mouths shut to begin with.  
  
"WHY DON'T YOU JUST ASK HERMIONE!? She seems to know everything that's good for me! She's the one who forces all of my decisions! I'm sure Ron would be delighted to help interfere! Wouldn't you. Mate!?"  
  
Ron's mouth opened dumbly as his eyes went wide and face burned crimson in anger at being shouted at. Hermione had the grace to look down at the floor. Harry could only assume that it was because she felt she was right but didn't want Harry to get even madder. This was her type of tactic she usually used when this sort of thing happened; Act like You're ashamed and sorry for what you have done, even though your not, to avoid conflict.  
  
Harry sucked in a big breath before he exhaled. He could feel the room staring at him as he tried to clam down.  
  
"Don't even start, Hermione! You may see nothing wrong with exposing my privacy against my own wishes, but I do so don't even think about pulling your "Apologetic innocent schoolgirl" act with me. You both knew that I had no intention of revealing this, yet you just went against my wishes. We've had this conversation before! Remember? You know my reasons," Harry fumed.  
  
This time, Hermione heated up. "HARRY JAMES POTTER!! I can't believe how selfish you are being! Do you realize that the Order and the concerned parents of students have been looking for something like this to nail Umbridge with? Yet, you don't want to wound your pride to help out!"  
  
That was the last straw. Harry's fists were clenched so tightly now that blood had been drawn from the fingernail digging into his palms. Suddenly the pitcher of pumpkin juice that was setting in the middle of the kitchen table exploded into millions of pieces. The juice sprayed everywhere as the glasses and plates exploded as well.  
  
The boy tried his best to control his magic by clearing his mind and breathing in and out. The entire room was staring at him, he could feel it. When he felt like he could speak without screaming, yelling, or chunking items at the room's occupant's heads, Harry spoke softly.  
  
"I'm selfish? Why am I selfish? I give up practically EVERY bit of my life for this world. I have NO privacy, no secrets, I know nothing about myself nor the family that I don't have. It seems like the world, that I am always giving to, knows things about my before I do. The people around me know when I am upset before I do, and when I am hungry or in pain before I do. I even think the world knew who I had a crush on last year before I even realized that I had one.  
  
"I understand why the world wants Toad put in Azkaban. I understand that we need a reason, but why me? Hermione, Ron, you know for a fact that there is another person that was forced to use the quill. Why does it have to be me that have to show the world my scar and point the finger at the Toad? Would the other person not have been able to convict her just as easily? Yet I am selfish? All I wanted to do was keep the world from going bezerk with pity for me. I have no desire to be on the front page of the Daily Profit for this when there are other stories that need printed. Haven't I suffered enough by Umbridge's hand? No, I suppose not. "  
  
Harry took in another breath as he surveyed the room. Hermione was crying in earnest. Ron was still red in the ears but now was sporting a look of apology on his face. Ginny was looking at him with a face devoid of any feeling of which Harry found odd. Remus seemed to be shocked and Tonks awed while Moody was glowing in respect. Mrs. Weasley was crying into her husband who appeared to be very sad.  
  
The green-eyed teen sighed, "Look, I'm sorry I lost my temper with you guys. The story is that I lost my temper with Umbridge and she gave me detentions, particularly for telling anyone that Voldemort was back and that he had murdered Cedric. In detention she gave me a weird quill and told me to write, "I must not tell lies," onto a piece of parchment. There was no ink, but when I began writing I noticed that it seemed to use my own blood. I wrote that same line over and over during every detention she gave me."  
  
He glanced over at his best friends, who looking more pitiful by the minute and said, "I really am sorry for taking my anger out on you. It's not you fault. I think I'd like to be alone now."  
  
With that, Harry turned and walked from the room. He knew that they would attempt to talk to him soon and would check his room first, therefore, Harry found his way to the library.  
  
Once inside, Harry searched through the limited variety of subjects. There were mostly dark arts books with a few potions and transfiguration thrown in. The boy selected a book that gave extensive definitions and incantations on some of the lighter dark art spells and sat down in one of the leather chairs.  
  
It wasn't till two in the afternoon that Hermione and Ron stepped into the room. At first it seemed like nobody was going to say anything, but after a while Hermione flung herself at Harry repeating that she was sorry over and over. Ron shook his hand and Harry gave a short smile and things were back to normal. Words were not spoken as Hermione and Ron looked through the book collection and selected themselves a book to read.  
  
It wasn't usually Ron's thing, to sit and read for hours on end, so when, after an hour or two, Hermione and Harry continued to check if he were bored, they were surprised to find that he was deeply immersed in his reading.  
  
Hermione was starting on her second book Harry in the middle of his when there was a knock on the library door. None of them looked up to see that it was Ginny who walked through the door.  
  
She watched the three, engrossed in their books, for a moment before doing her Umbridge impression.  
  
"Hem, Hem!"  
  
All three teens snapped to attention. Ginny laughed at the worry on their faces.  
  
"Ginny that was not funny!" Ron stammered, his hand gripping the chair tighter than it should.  
  
"Of course it was! Anyway, dinner is ready. Mum sent me to find you three."  
  
Harry wished that he could find a way out of it, but knew that would raise questions and more people would try to "talk" to him about it. So he begrudgingly followed the rest into the kitchen for dinner.


	12. Set Ups

**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling deserves all credit  
**

**When Nightmares Are A Good Thing  
**

**Chapter 12: Dinner Set Ups**

****

The kitchen table was slightly emptier than it had been the night before, Harry noticed, as not everyone in the Order resided at Headquarters. Already seated were Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Remus, and the Headmaster and Headmistress. The absence of Tonks was odd, but not unusual. She did have a family to visit and Mad Eye tended to have missions for the order at night.  
  
Harry hastily took the seat next to the headmistress leaving a seat temporarily empty between Mrs. Weasley and himself, which was thankfully taken up by Ginny. He had decided last night to try and stay out of Molly Weasley's eyesight when it came to eating; therefore sitting across or next to her was out of the question. Ron, who was now sitting across from him, was his best friend but his barbaric eating patterns would make Harry's own bird like appetite seem far worse, if they were seated side by side. Remus was to one side of Ron and Hermione to the other. The only real problem Harry had with the table arrangement was that he had wished to be seated further away from his "Grandparents". Then again, he had evaded them long enough. Dumbledore was bound to have words with his sometime tonight. At least this way there was a possibility of getting it over with while in the presence of others.  
  
Like most dinner conversations at Grimmauld 12 Place, there were many. It always seemed like people were conversing with the person all the way across the table rather than those that were next to them. It gave Harry a pleasant homely feeling, like Hogwarts.  
  
The skinny boy put some meager helpings on his plate and slowly began eating a little bit at a time to keep up the appearance, all the while discussing Ron and Hermione's "relationship" quietly with Ginny.  
  
"Do you think he'll ever realize that he likes her?" Ginny asked.  
  
Harry considered before saying, "He either has already and won't admit it out of fear of rejection or hasn't figured it out because he's that thick."  
  
Ginny's snort of laughter was thankfully not audible to the rest of the table over Ron and Hermione, who were bickering over whether or not "shan't" was a word or not. Sometimes the things they fight over were just plain ridiculous.  
  
With a silly smile Ginny whispered, "I think he just might be that thick."  
  
"Well then, we'll just have to help him realize it because I, for one, refuse to spend another school year with them arguing over the dumbest topic known to man. Really, one day the got into it over where toilet paper comes from! Honestly!"  
  
The snicker that his statement forced from Ginny made Harry's stomach tingle in joy. He watched as flipped her hair over one shoulder and turned to look him in the eye sporting a grin so mischievous one would wager that the Marauders and the twins had taught it to her.  
  
"You have to make him jealous, Harry. Make him jealous about Hermione and then point it out to him. Maybe then he'll do something about all this," She said, gesturing under the table up at the couple in front of them.  
  
Harry smiled at her before he turned his attention to Hermione. Due to his life in a cupboard and a neglectful family, he had never been open about anything, especially emotions. He wasn't really sure how to flirt or what to do that would make Ron jealous, so he stared. It only took a few moments before Hermione noticed.  
  
"Are you all right, Harry?"  
  
Still smiling inwardly at the thought of his and Ginny's plan, Harry shook his head to regain his ability to not stare.  
  
"Um, yeah, it's just you look so beautiful, Herms. I don't know why I never noticed it before!"  
  
Hermione blushed the same color as Ron's ears.  
  
"Oh, no, I'm not. It's just-"  
  
"Yes, you are. You're the most gorgeous almost sweet sixteen year old girl I have ever had the pleasure to set eyes on," the green-eyed boy cut her off. With that, Harry leaned across the table and placed a chaste kiss on Hermione's cheek. Out the corner of his eye he saw that his best friend was about ready to explode. When he pulled back, he stared into Hermione's chocolate brown eyes as she stared back.  
  
Suddenly there was a loud noise as Ron's chair was pushed back from the table forcibly.  
  
"Excuse me," Ron spat through gritted teeth. He stormed out of the room almost slamming the door to the kitchen in the process.  
  
Mrs. Weasley seemed very upset at her son's behavior; she apologized to the table thoroughly by offering to go calm him down. Ginny only laughed at the table's responses to the scene.  
  
"No, Mum. I think this is my, ahem, "cue" to do a sisterly duty," she spoke.  
  
Harry scoffed, "Oh sure! Take all the fun jobs, why don't you!"  
  
"So you'd like the honor, then?"  
  
"Um...no. You go right ahead."  
  
"I thought so. Harry Potter an amazing guy all around is scared of his best mate!"  
  
Harry, not even catching the compliment replied with, "You're just trying to push it off on me, now!"  
  
"Obviously!"  
  
"You'd better hurry before he gets violent!"  
  
Ginny mock glared at him as she left the room in search of her brother. Harry chuckled as he turned back around to face a table full of confused witches and wizards.  
  
"So, um, how long have you been here Hermione?" Harry asked to dodge questions.  
  
It seemed that she was still working out what was going on because it took a minuet for Hermione to answer his question with a simple, "three days."  
  
Nobody said much else until Ginny strode back into the room looking confident.  
  
"What's the verdict?" Harry asked when he saw Ron had not accompanied her in.  
  
"He's wallowing in his self denial. He's mad at you as well."  
  
"Well I knew he would be, but what else?"  
  
"Oh, you'd probably better plan to speak with him in the morning when he's cooled off. He had Krum's figurine out again."  
  
Harry winced. "Didn't he smash that in our fourth year around the time of the Yule Ball? I could have sworn I stepped on his head four or five time that winter."  
  
With a smile she responded, "Yes, but I think he uses 'Reparo' on it after he vents his anger. I'll bet he owls Fred or George in the morning to put it right again so he can throw it at the wall once more."  
  
He nodded his agreement as he said, "Yeah, I'll bet. I'll speak with him after breakfast. He only got in his first two helpings of dinner down. I wouldn't ask a mountain troll to face Ron when he's hungry. Have you already brushed the finer points of what he needed to hear?" Harry saw Ginny nod her head proudly.  
  
He stole a look across the table at Hermione, who was smiling broadly behind her glass of pumpkin juice having caught on to the two were up to.  
  
Suddenly a wave of guilt flooded through him. He had been mad at Hermione just this morning for doing the very thing that he had decided to allow people to do with him at the beginning of the summer; save the world. It was when he took a study break from his book that he remembered his promise unto himself. Hadn't he agreed to take all the pain from the world and manage it himself? So why had he gotten angry with Hermione and Ron? They were doing just what he was supposed to be doing. Why make Lee Jordan tell the story of the Umbridge and her evil ways? He was already in pain; a little more wouldn't kill him, right? It was then that he came to the conclusion that he had, once again, hurt the people around him unintentionally. When his best friends came in to apologize he quickly accepted to set things right.  
  
Now, he had all but told Hermione that he was just trying to get Ron jealous. Shouldn't she be accusing him of lying about her beauty? He decided to apologize anyway.  
  
"Look, Mione, I really did mean what I said. I just normally wouldn't have even thought about saying something like that-"  
  
Hermione cut him off, "I know, Harry. I've been your best friend ever since you saved my life from that mountain troll. I think I know you better than you think."  
  
"Better than me even," Harry muttered under his breath, the memory of Hermione explaining his "hero complex" before he forced them all to fly to the Ministry of Magic still fresh. It seemed as if nobody had heard his statement, but Ginny gave him a questioning look.  
  
Dinner carried on for a while longer; with Harry listening to the rest speak of this and that all the while trying to force himself to actually eat. He caught Remus looking at him with a closed expression many times during dinner but had little time to consider what it was all about.  
  
A throat was cleared softly to the right of Harry. A glance at his right told him it had come from the Headmaster. Harry knew what was coming but did nothing to encourage it. He stared one of Dumbledore's midnight blue sleeves and focused on it intently. The Professor had wanted to play games last year and Harry was following the rules; don't look into the other's eyes and avoid any conversation, explanations, or exchange of any sort.  
  
After a few moments Professor Dumbledore said softly, "Harry, please look at me."  
  
Harry brought his eyes up to look at a part of the wall just beyond the old man's head. He heard him sigh and Professor McGonagall shift uncomfortably next to him. He was sure the rest of the room was waiting on tender hooks to see what would happen. The room had fallen completely silent.  
  
"Very, well. I do wish to speak to you when you finish your dinner, Harry. I'll be in the drawing room," Dumbledore said in a slightly regretful sounding voice.  
  
Harry watched as the Headmaster stood up from the table, thanked Mrs. Weasley for the delicious meal, that Harry couldn't even taste, and left the room. Harry balanced out his choices. On one hand, he could get up now and go face his doom. He would get out of dinner but only to have words with Dumbledore. On the second hand, he could drawl out dinner and have less time with the Headmaster. The risk in his appetite being noticed was too great in the latter so Harry summoned all the calmness he possessed and then some. After an appropriate amount of time, he too stood up and thanked Mrs. Weasley before leaving the room and taking his time to hum a melancholy tune as he approached the drawing room. 


	13. Confrontations, Almost

**_Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling deserves all credit  
  
When Nightmares Are A Good Thing  
  
Chapter 13: Confrontations...almost._**

**__**   
  
The door to the drawing room was slightly ajar when Harry approached. He took a calming breath, trying desperately to organize some spare cover stories, should he need them.  
  
The door closed behind him and Harry was certain that Dumbledore cast a silencing spell as well as a locking spell to ensure that he did not try to run. He fought the bitter snort that surfaced when he considered that he might be able to undo the Headmaster's locking charm wandlessly.  
  
"Please have a seat, Harry," the man with the beard said in a cool voice, his blue eyes twinkling as usual.  
  
With a sigh, Harry walked over to the chair in front of his Grandfathers but did not sit yet. He stared at his new shoes and chose his words carefully. He didn't really know how he felt about the man in front of him, but he most certainly did not want to be rude to him.  
  
"Headmaster," Harry greeted in a tone that was only slightly warmer than he would have used against Snape.  
  
Silence rang as Dumbledore interpreted the use of formality with his name and the freezing bite that was presented along with it.  
  
Harry sat in his chair, but did not lean back or get comfortable. He glanced at the door before resolving to gaze at the clock on the wall behind Professor Dumbledore's head while he waited for him to initiate the conversation that he had called him in here for, as Harry was not going to contribute willingly. This meeting was not going to aid the fight against Voldemort it was merely an idea of friendliness, presented to Harry so that things may return to normal again.  
  
But things were not okay, given what Harry had found out during his stay at Privet Drive. If his _Grandparents_ wanted to keep secrets from him by not telling him that they were related then he would keep secrets by not telling them that he knew. They wanted it this way therefore it seemed prudent that he respect their wishes.  
  
"Well, Harry," Dumbledore spoke, stressing the use of Harry's name to prove that he was not going to back into the trap of formality again just because Harry had. "I believe I called you in here to discuss a few private matters of which you know nothing about yet."  
  
The boy's heart pounded furiously as he struggled to maintain his stare at the clock. Was he going to tell him of his "unknown" heritage?  
  
"This is going to be a very touchy subject but I thought it best to inform you of it rather than catch you off guard. You may not wish to discuss this yet but I am afraid that there is not much of a choice in the matter."  
  
Harry's mask slipped to one of confusion. What was he talking about?  
  
"You see, Harry, when we induct a person into the Order we suggest that they make out a will. This may sound morbid to you, but it actually a very well organized precaution. They are only needed if death befalls an Order member."  
  
An icy knot was twisting inside Harry's stomach. He felt as though he had swallowed an enormous icicle.  
  
Dumbledore continued on, "Yes, Sirius wrote one out. It was placed inside a Gringotts vault of which all of these types of letters are written. Though they are not official, they state instructions and last requests from the owner as well as the bequethment of possessions. Sirius's will will be fetched in a few days time to be read."  
  
Harry gulped lightly and lowered his eyes to the sleeve of Albus Dumbledore's robe. He should have expected this. Of course Sirius would have a will, but that did not mean that Harry wanted to read it. Reading it would almost like signing off his life forever. To divide up all his belongings and fulfill his last wishes seemed almost like washing dishes; free of remaining residue so that no one would be able to tell who had ate on them last and ready for the next person to use. It was not a very appealing notion.  
  
"I understand that this is going to be hard for you but there are many people here to-"  
  
"Yes, I know," Harry cut him off, not wanting to hear the rest. To turn the subject away from where it was headed, towards how he was feeling since Sirius's death, Harry asked, "It hasn't been retrieved yet?" as he was struck by a sudden idea.  
  
"No, it has not," was the simple answer.  
  
"Sir, would it be too much of a problem to ask to have my own will placed into the vault?"  
  
The elder man looked about as startled as Harry had ever seen him look before. True, it was not very startled for a normal person but Albus Dumbledore was hard to surprise, therefore even a tiny bit was a large difference.  
  
He could tell that he was being surveyed but said nothing as he continued to stare away from Dumbledore's eyes.  
  
"If you wish it so, then yes. I will make instruction for your own will to be placed into the vault along with those of the Order."  
  
Harry couldn't tell as he was not looking at Dumbledore, but he suspected a look of tired graveness.  
  
"Thank you, sir," Harry replied levelly.  
  
"You are quite welcome."  
  
"Would you mind if I retrieved it now?" Harry asked. He wanted to be done with this now. Waiting till later would procure a second meeting.  
  
"Not at all," the Headmaster stated. Had Harry looked that time he would know for sure what his Grandfather looked when shocked. He had certainly not been expecting Harry to have already written it.  
  
Walking brusquely up the stairs, Harry thought to himself about what Sirius's will would contain. He approached his room and shut the door behind him. A lock and silencing spell later Harry spoke the Parsletongue needed to achieve access to his will. When he had it safely in his hand, he looked it over, checking the seal. It could use an extra charm but Harry considered whether or not an anti-opening charm would make Dumbledore suspicious or not of his abilities.  
  
When Harry made his mind up he took all the charms off the paper and slipped it into his shirt pocket.  
  
When he arrived back at the drawing room he glanced at the Headmaster's face while he was looking over the wall opposite of him. He seemed tired and older than usual. Harry mentally shook off a sigh as he closed the door and retook his seat.  
  
"Umm...sir?" Harry handed his will over to the professor who inspected it carefully, running a finger under the edge of the envelope but not opening it.  
  
"Do you mind if I spell it impenetrable until the event of you death?"  
  
That was exactly what Harry was hoping for and nodded his head. He knew the incantation himself and was about to offer to touch the parchment, as was needed for the spell, but stopped realizing that under normal circumstances he wouldn't have known that spell.  
  
Dumbledore explained the spell to him and implied that in order for the spell to work, it had to be keyed into Harry's magical signature. The envelope would only be able to open with his magical touch and since this was a will, Harry wouldn't be opening it. When his magic dissipated from the world, then the spell would be null and void.  
  
When the spell was in place, along with several of the Headmaster's fire, erosion, and water repellent charms.  
  
"Thank you," Harry said when the will was placed into the old man's pocket for temporary keeping, "but do you think you could ask whomever takes this to the vault to not mention that I have a will?" The teen didn't go into detail on why it was important to him to keep this a secret; he assumed the Headmaster knew, like always.  
  
"Harry, I must admit I am still curious as to your latest Voldemort vision. I presume that you wrote all that you could remember but I think you should probably re explain it," Professor Dumbledore said gently.  
  
The green eyed boy sighed softly before once again studying his shoes, "I went to bed at about nine o'clock that night. I have no idea how long after I fell asleep that the dream started or at what time I awoke. I was alone in some sort of a dirty chamber. Reminded me of the dungeons except more cave like. A few moments later a death eater entered. I killed him on the spot. I have no clue what the name of the person was, but I knew that they were responsible for the foil in a plan. I think I had already sent for them before I was entered into the vision. Does that make sense?" Harry asked, not wanting to have to back track.  
  
Dumbledore replied, "Yes, I believe so. Please continue."  
  
So he did. "Anyway, I summoned certain death eaters. It took another minuet after killing the first death eater for the ones I had called to appear. They were all wearing their masks so I don't really know who they were as only one of them spoke; Bellatrix Lestrange. I had explained to them that the death eater I had killed went slack on security of one of my prisoners. I said that the prisoner was to be guarded with the utmost protection, as I couldn't risk letting him get away. I don't know who the hostage is but I know that whoever they are, they are important to his next plan. Without that prisoner, his plan won't work.  
  
Next I crucioed a few of the crowd for something or other, I'm not sure what. All I told them was that they had dissatisfied me in some way. That's when Bellatrix spoke. She asked if she could play with they prisoner. She started to say something else but I interrupted her quickly and gave her a bout of my crucio for almost letting something slip to the other death eaters, I think. I didn't say but..."  
  
He pause his story for a moment to remember the rest. It had been so weird to look at himself as Voldemort. His slit like eyes glowing red...  
  
"I then looked down at her and saw my reflection in a puddle of water. I was looking at myself but I had Voldemort's face and body. That's when I woke up and wrote to you." Harry trailed off.  
  
The Headmaster seemed to be considering his story. Out the corner of his eye, Harry took a peek and saw that Dumbledore was rubbing one hand over his bearded chin.  
  
"Well, perhaps we should look into whom this prisoner could be, next order meeting," he said at long last.  
  
The boy nodded in agreement. He suddenly felt the Headmaster's eyes on him.  
  
"Harry, please look at me."  
  
Professor Dumbledore's voice had a pleading tone folded into it and he seemed to be very upset that Harry would not look him in the face. Part of Harry wanted to continue to ignore the man as he had been treated that way for an entire year, but the other part told him that it was childish to play this cat and mouse game when there was a war being fought. He looked up and straight into the blue eyes of his Grandfather.  
  
Harry couldn't ever remember seeing the man look as old as he did right then. His expression was a mixture between on of begging and relief; relief that he gotten his way or that Harry was cooperating? He pushed that thought away as Dumbledore spoke again.  
  
"My dear boy, I would like to apologize once again for the way I chose to tell you of you fate. I have thought it over many times now and I wish, as most of us do at times, that I could take back my actions and replace them with the correct ones, but I can not. I am not quite sure what I am most sorry for; the pain that you have no choice to bear and the horrible weight that you must bear, or that fact that I cost myself all the trust we had by inflicting unwanted pain."  
  
Those words seemed genuine to Harry. How could he be mad when here was his Grandfather apologizing to him and meaning it! There was of course the issue with their relationship but perhaps he had good reason for keeping it secret. Harry couldn't blame him for not admitting their relation to other.  
  
Another sigh escaped Harry's lips and he nodded his head. He couldn't bring himself to say he forgave him because he wasn't sure if he had. Instead, he said, "And I am very sorry about my attitude and for the destruction of your office. Might I suggest you not lock me in a room even again? I don't like being locked into rooms with no way to get myself out."  
  
Chuckling came from Dumbledore's mouth, although Harry didn't laugh. He was serious. Having been locked in a cupboard for ten years had apparently had some effects on Harry that he hadn't fully realized.  
  
Professor Dumbledore's voice interrupted his thoughts. "It's quite all right. As I said I have too many possessions," he paused before carrying on, "Now that you have had time to fully think over our conversation, do you have anymore questions?"  
  
The boy thought carefully then said, "Why didn't you tell me sooner? It's a bit late to start training in earnest. I mean, I could have paid more attention to my studies and been further along to fulfilling the prophecy by now."  
  
"Ah," Dumbledore said. He frowned slightly in thought. "Harry, have you ever heard of a muggle named William Shakespeare?"  
  
Green eyes blinked in confusion. Since when did a person go from talking about a prophecy to muggle authors?  
  
"Yes, I have."  
  
"Have you ever been given the chance to read any of his works?"  
  
"Yes. When I was given Dudley's...Dudley stores some of his unwanted possessions in my room. Books are always being discarded onto the shelf in my room. After my first year at Hogwarts I got board as Dobby was stopping all of my mail and started reading some of the books on the shelf. Two of them were plays written by Shakespeare, but I don't know what muggle literature has to do with my prophecy."  
  
Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling again as he brought his fingertips together in front of him. "Is there any chance that one of them was 'Macbeth'?"  
  
"Erm, yeah. I didn't read it all because I didn't quite understand everything," Harry mumbled.  
  
"Yes, well you were only 11-12 years old at the time. Quite understandable that you did not comprehend everything as it's a very complex plot. As for muggle, William Shakespeare was. His wife, Ann Hathaway, however, was not. She was a witch." Dumbledore waited for Harry to process. "Would you please recall what you _did_ read?"  
  
Harry racked his brain to remember the plotline. "Well, someone tells the main character, Macbeth that he's going to become King but he goes mad and kills a bunch people," he said.  
  
Somehow he seemed to be missing something major but Dumbledore only smiled at him before taking out his wand and conjuring up a book that read "Macbeth."  
  
He handed it over to Harry. "I believe you'll find that there is a more interesting device in the story that should aid some of your more trying life questions."  
  
Harry frowned. He hated it when Dumbledore spoke in rhymes!  
  
On that note, the Headmaster undid the locking spell to release them both from the room.  
  
"Remember to continue clearing your mind at night," Dumbledore reminded him.  
  
Harry nodded and said, "Goodnight, sir" before bounding out of the room and past the rest of the household that were gathered in the sitting room before the fire.  
  
When he reached his room, he went to his trunk and pulled out some pajama pants to change into for bed.  
  
He threw his pillow onto the floor and commenced his exercises. He was only at 28 when his stomach began burning again. Harry gasped in pain and surprise. Why was it hurting so much lately? The pain only intensified as Harry forced himself to separate himself from the pain long enough to finish the number of repetitions that he had set aside. A blinding sting was pulsing through his abdomen.  
  
It took nearly thirty minuets before it subsided enough for Harry to climb into bed to read the book the professor had conjured for him.It was five in the morning when he had read the book from cover to cover. He understood the story well, but could not pin point what it was that Dumbledore had meant for him to find. Surely he wasn't trying to tell him that he was becoming arrogant like Macbeth! That had indeed been the ultimate cause of death.  
  
Harry did not sleep that night as he tossed about his bed, turning the play over and over in his head. He had, several times, relit a light to go over certain part of the book, scouring for what he had missed. Finally, when he saw that the clock read seven-thirty, he resolved to ask Hermione about it after he had had words with Ron. 


	14. Plotline Deciphering

**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling deserves all credit  
  
When Nightmares Are A Good Thing  
  
Chapter 14: Plotline Deciphering**

****  
  
Since last night's exercises had proved to be more painful than normal, he had the forethought to take a couple of the muggle aspirins that the Twins had sent him before commencing his routine.  
  
Harry dressed quickly in another pair of baggy blue jeans, his black dragon hide boots, a charcoal gray button-up shirt over one the too tight black tee shirts. Harry ran a comb through his hair despite the fact that it was useless. His hair always seemed to look as if he'd traveled form the moon on his broom.  
  
He altered his appearance, namely the purple bags that he's become accustomed to seeing underneath his green eyes, and took another look in the mirror to make sure he had his new scar cover by clothing in case his metamorphagi skills failed him.  
  
He went downstairs to the kitchen and was very surprised to find it empty. It was normal for Mrs. Weasley to be cooking up a storm no matter what time of day it was. Then again, it was a Saturday.  
  
_'Oh, well. Maybe if I cook dinner I can say I've already eaten without it looking suspicious.'_ Harry thought.  
  
The kitchen had a few muggle appliances scattered about it. Upon inspection, Harry discovered that a refrigerator, toaster, stove, and a coffee maker had been installed. It made sense. Headquarters was sort of a neutral territory for all Order members therefore it needed to be supplied with all the things that Order members would need. Harry was sure Tonks, for one, preferred the muggle coffee to magic made and Harry most certainly did not disagree.  
  
He was in the middle of cooking the sausage and bacon when Mrs. Weasley entered the kitchen.  
  
"What in Merlin's name do you think you are doing?" came her confused and shocked voice.  
  
Harry started and turned around to face her, after flipping the pan's contents.  
  
"I was already up and so I thought I'd give you a break by cooking breakfast today," Harry replied calmly.  
  
A smile graced Mrs. Weasley face. "You don't have to do that, Harry dear. Here why don't you let me-"?  
  
"Actually I was rather intent on cooking this morning if you don't mind. You could help by preparing the juice, if you'd like," Harry offered firmly. He wasn't quite sure how Mrs. Weasley would react to not being allowed to cook dinner by herself.  
  
It seemed that she was rather upset at Harry wanting to cook instead of letting her, but it was clear that she wasn't going to let him do it all. By the time Harry had the sausages, bacon, and waffles, and coffee Mrs. Weasley had the juice and toast prepared, and the table set.  
  
Mr. Weasley with Remus walked into the kitchen just in time to see Harry flick his wrist to make the last two waffles in the pan spin in the air and land spectacularly on the top of the pile that was resting on the platter next to the stove.  
  
Clapping came from the three occupants of the room as Harry turned around with the platter to set on the table.  
  
"Harry where did you learn that?" Remus asked in awe.  
  
The boy in question shrugged his shoulders knowing very well that he'd picked it up from cooking for the Dursleys since he was old enough to reach the stove. Harry stifled a snort as he could verify that he'd even cooked before he could reach the stove. He had a small burn scar from an incident still.  
  
Chairs were moved away from the table and the three adults were seated. Harry turned back around for the coffee pot but not before he glimpsed the three of them sharing confused looks and shrugging their shoulders.  
  
Ten minuets later brought in Hermione Ginny, and Ron. Ron did not look any happier this morning than Harry had seen him last night though it took him only a moment to notice that his waffle was fixed exactly the way he liked it.  
  
"Fwanksmhumwahdido?" came from Ron's mouth, which was filled with chocolate chunk waffle and sausage.  
  
"Ronald Weasley!" "Ron!"  
  
It seemed Mrs. Weasley, Hermione, and Ginny all reprimanded Ron and the same time.  
  
Harry gave a small smile and decided to play translator. "He said 'Thanks, Mum. What did I do?''".  
  
Mrs. Weasley shook her head at the idea that Harry could understand Ron perfectly well with his mouth full.  
  
"What you did other than make a spectacle at dinner last night, I don't know but you will NOT behave that way ever again!" Ron shank in his seat. "However, I did not cook breakfast this morning.  
  
Ron gave her an incredulous look. "Of course you did, Mum! There's food on the table!"  
  
"Just because there is food on the table does not mean that cooked. There _are_ other people in this house who can cook."  
  
Hermione began eliminating the possibilities with a scientific look on her face. It was obviously going to bother her until she figured it out. Ron, on the other hand, dug back into his breakfast while making muffled noises that indicated his enjoyment of the different style of cooking.  
  
Harry smirked. Hermione still hadn't deduced who had cooked the wonderful breakfast that everyone was enjoying. He sat down unnoticed and watched their faces carefully, waiting to see how long it took for Hermione to figure it out and for Ron to finally ask.  
  
The biggest surprise was when Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Dumbledore walked into the room and sat down after having flooed in from wherever it was that they stayed at during most nights.  
  
It didn't take a genius to notice that the atmosphere this morning at breakfast was different. McGonagall took one look at the faces of the ones enjoying their breakfast before sitting down at one of the empty places and serving herself. Dumbledore and Snape soon followed, curious as to why everyone was concentrating on their food avidly.  
  
Harry smiled widely as he saw McGonagall's eyebrow shoot upward following the first bite.  
  
"Molly, I don't know what you've done differently but this is even more delicious than your normal cooking!" his Head of House praised.  
  
"I didn't cook this morning, Minerva," Mrs. Weasley answered. Harry sensed a little regret in her voice and vowed to do something about it later.  
  
Once again, everyone's face contorted as the continued eating while trying to figure out just who had out cooked Mrs. Weasley, Remus and Mr. Weasley not included.  
  
Ron was on his fifth waffle when Hermione noticed that Harry was not eating and questioned him about it.  
  
"I already ate," he replied quickly.  
  
Harry held his hand under the table and counted out with his fingers. 5. 4. 3. 2. -...  
  
"Harry! YOU cooked this meal? I assumed you were about as useful in the kitchen as Ron."  
  
Ron didn't even notice his insult as he stuffed another bite into his mouth.  
  
"Well, Mione you thought wrong," Harry smiled.  
  
Ron's head shot up as soon as he heard that.  
  
"Ehmnfewhsfrng?!"  
  
"Ron!" "Ronald!"  
  
Harry smiled and said, "Yeah, mate. I can't believe it either. She must be losing her touch. She's usually much more perceptive than this!"  
  
"You can't honestly understand a word that Mr. Weasley just said," Snape sneered across the table. It seemed that after hearing that Harry had cooked the breakfast he was enjoying, he lost his appetite. His plate was pushed away from him.  
  
Once again, Harry shrugged his shoulders and said, "He said 'Hermione was wrong!'" The boy looked over at his best friend and shook his head. "I can't believe that you didn't figure it out Ron. I am the only one who knows that you like Chocolate Frogs in your waffles. I left you clues so that you could beat her to the conclusion." Harry said in false disappointment.  
  
Ron grinned at him having swallowed and temporarily forgotten that he was still mad at him for last night. He hung is head in feigned shame and said "Sorry, I'll tried harder next time I swear."  
  
That was it for Ron. He laughed so hard he almost fell out of his chair. Harry chuckled while Ginny giggled. Hermione looked downright murderous. She did not bode well with being told she was wrong about something.  
  
Harry gulped and turned to Ron, who now appeared to be done with his breakfast.  
  
"Erm...Thanks for the help this morning Mrs. Weasley. Ron, can I have a word?"  
  
Ron looked from Hermione to Harry. He nodded his head and followed Harry out of the kitchen and into the library.  
  
Harry sat down as Ron did the same. Neither spoke for a moment before Harry sighed and began his speech.  
  
"Look, Ron, about last night-"  
  
"Where do you get off talking to Hermione like that?" Ron roared, having remembered that he was angry with Harry.  
  
"To make you realize your feelings," Harry said simply.  
  
Ron's ears became slightly less red as he considered Harry.  
  
"So you aren't interested in her like that?"  
  
"Depends, are you going to revert back to pretending that you DON'T like her like that if I say no? 'Cos that's the case then I won't give you an answer"  
  
Ron thought about it before he surprised Harry by getting down on his knees in a begging stance.  
  
"Look, I DO like Hermione. After last night...well Ginny made sense. I thought you liked her too. I suppose you have the right to like but I dunno. I just thought that she would kinda be my own thing that I wouldn't have to compete with you for." Ron stated.  
  
Shocked at the seriousness and depth behind his best friend, Harry found his voice.  
  
"I like as a best friend, like a sister. You, however, like her as a girlfriend candidate. I've known this for a long time. You just didn't seem to realize your own feelings so Ginny and I thought we'd help you along. Now that I've got you to realize why and how you get jealous, I think we should work on getting you to do something about it."  
  
Ron stood up and paced. He ran his fingers through his hair nervously. "Do you really think I should tell her?"  
  
Harry waited till he was looking him in the eye and said in a sorrowful voice, "I did that once. Didn't tell someone how I felt. Its too late now and all I can think about is how I wish I had said how I felt."  
  
The red-haired boy said nothing. What could you say to something like that? Deciding to give Ron a moment to himself Harry stood up and walked to the door.  
  
"Look, Ron, I won't tell her how you feel. That's your job. It's your decision. Do what you think is right when you thinks it's right, but for now I need both your help. Wait her while I go get her."  
  
Harry walked out of the room before Ron could protest. He made his way back to the kitchen and pushed to door open. Most of everyone was still sitting at the table conversing with one another.  
  
Ginny looked up at him, as did most of the others. Harry gave her a Potter lopsided grin and winked at her to let her know that things were good again. She giggled knowing that their plan worked. Harry even saw the others, who had been at dinner last night, hiding smiles.  
  
Harry walked over to her and squatted next to her chair. "Hermione, your presence is requested in the library by me and Ron," he whispered in her ear, "You have a chance to redeem your wrong doings this morning by helping to decipher a problem with a book's plotline that I'm having."  
  
Hermione's eyes went wide and she almost scrambled out of her chair to get to the library. He followed her out of the room at a slower pace. Before he stepped through the door he gave Ginny another lopsided grin and took note of the shiver that seemed to pass through her. He made a motion with his finger to silently beckon her to follow him. She too scrambled out or her seat and fell in step behind him.  
  
When Harry and Ginny entered the library he noticed that Ron had finally sat down and was glancing nervously from Hermione to Harry who snorted as he saw that Hermione had already picked up her place in the book that she had been reading yesterday.  
  
He cleared his throat and when Hermione didn't look up Ron said, "Look Malfoy wears Gryffindor colored underwear!"  
  
Her head snapped up to see the three of them laughing at her.  
  
"Ha ha, very funny. What's the problem you needed help with, Harry?"  
  
Harry had no problem staving off his laughter, as his stomach didn't seem to agree with it. "Well, last night Dumbledore and I had some words...Anyway, we were...discussing a certain problem. He asked if I had questions about it. I asked one and he went Dumbledore on me. He asked me if I had ever read Macbeth."  
  
Before Hermione could go ballistic trying to off all of her knowledge on the book, Harry held a hand up to silence her before continuing.  
  
"I told him I had but I was eleven at the time and hadn't quite understood the entire plotline." Harry pulled his copy of the book out his back pocket and tossed it to Hermione. "He conjured this and suggested I read it. There's something in that book that I missed; a main conflict that I overlooked. Whatever it is, it's the answer to the question that I asked."  
  
"What was the question?" Ron asked, "Maybe it could be answer without the book, Masbeck did you call it?"  
  
"Macbeth, Ron, and if Harry were able or willing to tell us about his question he wouldn't have skated around it so many times already. Besides, if he thought we'd know how to answer it he would have asked instead of trying to figure out the book." Ginny replied for him.  
  
Harry nodded his head in agreement. He was thankful when nobody questioned him about why he couldn't or wouldn't tell them the topic of his question.  
  
"So I was hoping that Hermione here could tell me the conflicting topic in the plot so that I can make sure I didn't over look anything."  
  
Ron stood up and went to sit on the arm of Hermione's chair so that he could read over her shoulder. Her face flushed as she looked up at Harry.  
  
"Why don't you start by explain the main plot to the three of us and I'll fill in the holes," Hermione suggested.  
  
Harry sighed before sitting down across from Ron and Hermione. Ginny took a few tentative steps toward Harry and sat on the arm of his chair. Ron and Hermione's minds were elsewhere, otherwise Harry was sure Ron one of them would have pointed out that there were other chairs in the room, not that Harry was complaining.  
  
"Well, basically it starts with the main character, Macbeth, and his best friend Banquo. It seems there's been a war in which Macbeth fought valiantly. He and his mate run into these three witches who tell them that Macbeth will become thane of another country and King. Banquo is told that he will father many Kings in the future and-"  
  
"Maybe you're going to be King, Harry! That means I get to have children who will be King someday!" Ron exclaimed.  
  
"Maybe," Hermione said politely.  
  
Ron seemed to realize that his idea was wrong from the silence in the room.  
  
Harry continued, "Well, Macbeth does get the title of Thane which makes him wonder about being King because it happed that there was already a good King that was in perfect health. He told his wife of what the witches said and they come to the conclusion that Macbeth needs to murder the King in order to gain the throne. So they do. The sons of Macbeth flee to separate countries thinking that whomever murdered their father will be after them next. With them out of the country Macbeth is made King. Things go well except Macbeth starts to realize that since his part of the witches prophecy came true that Banquo's will too. He hires a couple of people to murder Banquo and his son but the son escapes. MacDuff, another character, gets suspicious of Macbeth and starts to talk to other people around him. Macbeth has his family murdered, and his wife goes insane. The head witch or whatever, Hecate, is angry with the three witches for telling Macbeth the prophecy. To correct their mistake the three witches tell Macbeth three more things. After hearing them he becomes very sure that he cannot be defeated. MacDuff, meanwhile, has contacted the old King, Duncan's eldest son and has gotten him to agree to fight and reclaim his throne that is rightfully his. The army that MacDuff gathers shows up at Macbeth's castle to kill him. Macbeth is too arrogant to believe he can be killed and goes into the fight like that. He is killed by MacDuff and Malcolm, Duncan's son, is crowned King."  
  
Ron was leaning forward on the arm of the chair, listening intently to the plot. Hermione was smiling at Harry in pride at having understood the Old English play while Ginny had her face scrunched up in thought.  
  
"Harry, you don't think that he's trying to tell you that you'll end up like Macbeth, do you?" Ron asked in a small fearful voice.  
  
Hermione sighed. "No, Ron, because Harry's not that arrogant. Besides, this is Dumbledore. The answer to Harry's question wouldn't be in plain sight."  
  
"Well, Hermione, what do you think the whole point of the play is?" Ginny asked thoughtfully.  
  
"I read it when I was twelve so I'm not quite sure but I think the point was whether or not prophecies are real. I mean, they could be but Macbeth took what he was told would happen into his own hands. Was he meant to murder his way into the throne or was the prophecy supposed to happen on its own account?" Hermione said.  
  
Harry held back a gasp. In a matter of seconds it clicked. Yesterday he had been questioning the Headmaster why he hadn't told Harry of his fate so that he could prepare for it. If he was thinking right, Dumbledore was saying that he didn't need to prepare for it. If it was to actually happen, then it would but he didn't need to go and try to force it to happen by studying and dueling excessively. It would take place naturally.  
  
The boy with messy jet-black hair down played his emotions to that of one who was confused.  
  
"I dunno. Maybe Ron was onto something. Maybe he meant Voldemort was like Macbeth. I guess I'll figure it out later." Harry said slowly as he stood.  
  
The other three stood up as well. Ginny took a look at her watch and gave a pointed look to Ron and Hermione who seemed to understand what it meant because they suddenly started babbling suggestions at getting a Butterbeer in the kitchen.  
  
Giving them mystified looks of uncertainty; Harry followed them out of the library. He jumped when Hermione laced her hand through his right arm while Ginny linked arms with his left. Ron pushed the door open and held it for Harry and the girls. The lights were off and it seemed to be deadly silent. He was about to voice his thoughts when suddenly the lights flared and the entire house's occupants jumped out of hiding spots yelling, "SURPRIZE!!!"


	15. Whose Birthday?

**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling deserves all credit  
  
When Nightmares Are A Good Thing  
  
Chapter 15: Whose Birthday?**  
  
Harry's head whipped around with stunning speed, taking in the gaudy streamers of multicolor hanging from the ceiling, marking the table and framing the door. Everyone that was taking up residence at Headquarters for the summer was present and most, excluding Mrs. Weasley, were wearing a party hat of some oddly selected style. Fred and George had seemingly taken the day off from their store in Diagon alley as well as Bill, and Charley from their jobs. Also, his Grandparents (as he had began thinking of them mentally- though he had no idea when it had began) and Professor Snape when in attendance. Snape looked like he was struggling against invisible bonds in the chair he was sitting in to get away from this wretched place. Harry wondered why he was there to celebrate a party that appeared to be for someone's birthday. Come to think of it, Harry had a blank mind as to why there was a party being held. Why hadn't he been told? The table held presents and a two-tower cake. In the floor was a tremendous burlap sack that Harry was very curious as to what it held.

He shook his head, bringing himself back to reality and back to his wondering thoughts at why a surprise birthday party was being held without his knowledge as to who it was for or that it would be taking place.

Harry glanced over at his friends that had walked into the room along with him. They were all beaming at him brightly. Harry briefly wondered why. The room had shouted surprise when the four of them entered so the person with the birthday had to be either Ron, Hermione, or Ginny. Racking his brain, Harry scrunched his face up in concentration. He pointed a finger at Hermione as if he were about to determine her the birthday person, but then, remembering her sixteenth birthday would in September, he quickly moved his finger over at Ron. But no, that couldn't be right. Ron's birthday was in April. Harry brought his finger back and scratched his head with it, clearly befuddled. Then it struck him. Ginny! The party had to be for her! Of course, all the Weasley's would want to be there for it's youngest member's fifteenth birthday and Snape hated all of the Red-haired clan.

Having solved the entire puzzle, save why he hadn't been told? Harry smiled at Ginny who beamed back at him.

"Why didn't you guys tell me we were doing this?"

The room's excited chatter died down as they, one by one, stared at him as if the answer were obvious. Harry's left eyebrow rose in confusion and frustration at not having grasped the total idea. He turned to look at Hermione to see if perhaps she could whisper what he was blatantly missing in his ear, but she and Ron were staring at him much like they had when he'd told them about the time that Dudley had called him fat. When they continued to look at him as if he were a grossly distorted version of flobberworm, Harry jerked his gaze to Ginny who was sharing the same look as Ron and Hermione. He had clearly been wrong about whose birthday it was. The rest of the room was now sharing pointed glances with the person next to them.

Finally, Harry gave up trying to solve the mystery and said in a slightly annoyed voice, " Look, I give up. I am sorry whosever's birthday it is, but I have no clue. Happy birthday whomever. If I had been notified perhaps I would-Why are you laughing?"

Ron had promptly collapsed onto the floor, roaring with laughter and beating his fist raw on the stone floor of the basement kitchen. Hermione was leaning heavily on Ginny, both were giggling uncontrollably. Harry whirled about to see that the Twins, Bill, Charley, Tonks, were all laughing just as hard. Remus and Mr. Weasley were chuckling softly and Dumbledore's mouth was upturned in a small smile, his eyes twinkling madly. Snape, who was still sitting as if there were something slimy down the collar of his robes, was wearing the largest smirk he'd seen on his face since the last time he'd been given him reason to procure a rather nasty detention pickling Toad bladders. The only ones in the room not laughing themselves stupid were Mrs. Weasley, McGonagall, and Mad Eye. The latter was looking him over with his magical eye, a look of extreme distaste present. Harry squirmed a little as he studied the looks upon the two eldest women in the room. They both appeared have a look of pure concern and worry directed towards himself.

A noise of abrupt wood against stone to his left proved to be one of the Twins, who had slid sideways in his seat and grabbed his brother to keep himself upright effectively dragging them both to the floor, joining the youngest Weasley son. About to walk out of the room that was laughing at him for some secret unknown to him, Harry turned on heel to find Ginny standing in the doorway, smiling softly. She placed one of her small hands on his forearm. The heat that had crept into the cheeks of Harry's flustered and clueless face seemed to fade into a slightly glazed over calmness. He looked into her brown eyes and saw that she wasn't laughing but smiling at him with something akin to caring kindness. With a sigh, Harry about faced once more to see that most of the occupants had slowed their laughing and were now watching Harry eager to see if he had figured it out yet.

"Harry, dear, do you happen to know today's date?" Mrs. Weasley asked. It seemed she was on edge to see if Harry was still had enough wits to know a simple date.

"Um, well yeah. Today is Saturday, July the, erm...31st!" Harry said in triumph that he had actually known the date despite the fact that he'd stopped paying close attention to the calendar since he'd been returned to Privet Drive.

Remus gave him an appraising look. "So then..." If he was expecting Harry to cotton on, he was disappointed.

Ron emerged from the floor looking very exhausted and clutching his sides. "Harry," Ron panted, "whose birthday is on July 31st?"

Suddenly it clicked. He had forgotten his own birthday. He rammed the palm of his hand onto his forehead that held the infamous lightening bolt scar.

Ron slapped him on the back in a playful manner and said, "I can't believe you forgot! I mean, it's your birthday isn't it? Why would you not remember something like that?"

Hermione who was a bit more tactful, pointed out the large crimson red banner that hung on the wall farthest from them, directly over the cake, depicting the phrase, 'Happy Sixteenth Birthday, Harry!'

Harry read the banner and simply leaned back till he touched the wall and sank down to the floor. He proceed to bang his head on the wall, thoroughly embarrassed at having not only forgotten his birthday but missing the large wording to tell him, and then trying to guess whose birthday it was.

"Honestly, mate! And this morning you tried to tell me I was slow!" Ron laughed.

"I could have told you that Potter was slow," Snape sneered. He was quickly silenced when the entire room turned and glared at him.

Once again Harry tipped his head forward and propelled it backward into the wall behind him. In an instant Hermione had had all she could stand of his self inflicted violence and was pulling him to his feet. She gave him a pitying look much like the ones that McGonagall and Mrs. Weasley had given him earlier. A small flicker of anger flicked inside Harry at being shown sympathy for not caring enough to remember that it was his birthday. He squashed it down quickly.

Most of the guests had now gathered around Harry and were each saying something, but could not understand them, as he was not listening. He supposed they were either laughing at his idiocy or trying to make him feel better about it. Perhaps if he weren't so embarrassed he would laugh too.

Tonks made her way to stand in front of him. Some of the chatter died down as she announced the procedure of "tradition". The snickers and chuckled were back again and Harry found himself wondering briefly what the "tradition" was when it happened. Tonks kissed him.

Harry, completely shocked, jerked away at the first touch of her lips. He took a step backward looking around at those with him as if to ask if this were a sick joke. Nobody seemed able to offer any information. Turning and twisting to find Hermione, Harry's eyebrow rose as she stepped forward.

"Harry," she whispered, " it's a wizarding tradition for a witch or wizard to get kissed at anytime on their sixteenth birthday by their guests or friends and family. It's sort of like a precaution. Seeing as the next birthday will be the one when you'll come of age and thus be released into the world, the kissing is like a way of ensuring the robbing of some of a teenager's innocence so that when you do become seventeen you won't be quite so vulnerable or completely pure. It all started ages ago when it became obvious that the reality of society was overwhelming the-"

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry had cut her off before she hit her groove and started telling the entire room of wizarding birthday tradition history. He wanted to believe that they were only joshing him, but they would never have gotten Hermione to cooperate in such a stunt.

"Should we try that again, then?" Tonks said brightly.

They seemed to grin in unison, anxiously awaiting Tonk's second attempt to kiss the birthday boy. Before the qualms of, "I don't know HOW to kiss", 'What if I'm doing this wrong?" and "Do I have to do this in front of everyone?" could form in his head, Tonks had placed a hand on his shoulder and pressed her mouth to his. It took a second for Harry to realize that this wasn't nearly as horrible as the last time he'd been kissed. Of course, Tonks wasn't crying her eyes out so this kiss did not saturate his face as well as his lips. After a couple of seconds of standing stiffly, Harry relaxed slightly and began participating in the kiss. He brushed his lips against her, mimicking how he's kissed Cho. It seemed to Harry that they'd been kissing for at least a minute, but it was only about after ten seconds that Tonks pulled back, smiling broadly.

Clapping and cheers erupted from the small crowd. The Twins were even whistling out catcalls. Suddenly, Harry was very aware of the blush that had crept across his cheeks as Tonks announced that "Here was a boy would defiantly didn't need to be taught how to kiss". He could see the wink that Remus gave him as Hermione and Ginny shrieked at her statement.

Harry was urged forward to sit at the table by Ron, who told him that he needed to open his gifts now. He was seated in the middle of the table with Ron across from him with Hermione and Ginny to his sides. The rest were conjuring chairs and pulling up seats around the table and room so that they could see the unwrapping. Nothing happened for a moment until Ron handed his a present wrapped in tangerine orange. Relieved at not having to kiss someone in front of an entire room, Harry finally smiled as started to shed the paper.

When the paper was completely removed, Harry stared at a bundle of material that was surround a solid rectangular shape. The cloth was soft red silk that had animated snitches floating around it. Intrigued. Harry held it up in front of his face and was mortified to find that it was a pair of boxer shorts. He could feel the red creeping into his face as he hastily dropped them and glared at his best friend who was looking far too innocent. The younger crowd seemed to be trying hard not to laugh while the elders, except for Dumbledore, was appearing to be annoyed at the childishness of the first half of Ron's gift.

Harry was now trying his best to focus on the other object that Ron had given him. It was a book, to his surprise.

"Wronski feints, Slacker dives and more! Thanks Ron!" Harry said enthusiastically, momentarily forgetting that Ron had just embarrassed him in front of everyone by giving him underwear.

The were pages filled with colorful demonstrations of each stunt and had a history along with its record.

"Harry, maybe you should open the rest of your gifts," Hermione suggested in a slightly miffed voice that clearly revealed her views on boys and quidditch.

Ron handed the next gift to him. This one happened to be from Bill and Charlie. Inside the box was a length of leather in the exact same shade as the cardboard that contained in.

"It's a chameleon belt, Harry. All you have to do is wear it and it will automatically change to match your clothes," Bill offered. Harry hadn't worn a belt that morning so he donned it and watched in amazement as it morphed into the same shade of black that his dragon hide boots were.

"Thanks, Bill! Thanks, Charlie!" Harry said.

"Oh, I think we forgot to wrap part of it," Charlie told him, while throwing him a bundle of something black tinged with silver. Harry unfolded another pair of boxer shorts. This pair had a large silver dragon of whose face was on the front and behind was printed on the rear of the shorts. For what seemed the millionth, and he was not lucky enough for it to be the last, time that day his cheeks burnt crimson.

While everyone else was laughing at Harry's chagrin, Tonks handed him a gift that was wrapped in neon green tissue, with a bright pink bow.

Hoping to distract the rest of the gathered's laughing, Harry tore into the new gift only to find yet another pair of boxers. Red plaid, this time.

"Are you people merely using me to get your jollies today or are you trying to tell me something?" Harry demanded. A snort came from Snape as he prepared to make a comment but then held it make. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that McGonagall had stepped on his foot.

Most were laughing too hard to say anything. Hermione was leaning on Bill who was holding his side. Mr. Weasley looked like he wanted to laugh but Mrs. Weasley kept giving him pointed looks. Mad Eye was standing near the door looking paranoid and like he was bored. Dumbledore was twinkling brightly despite the fact the McGonagall was sitting next to him, lips pressed together.

Harry assumed that since the one's who had given him underwear wear too busy to answer and the ones not laughing probably had no clue as to what to say, Harry reached back in to Tonk's gift and pulled out a thick tome that was full of auror level defense spells and such. Harry beamed at her and thanked her for the book.

"What, no thanks for the other half?" Tonks asked playfully.

Her question was ignored as Harry picked up a random gift that was from the Twins.

He raised an eyebrow at them and slid it forward on the table so that it was at least a foot away from him.

"I'm warning you two, if it's a prank designed to turn me into a canary or ANYTHING I swear I will repossess the joke shop!" Harry said firmly.

Fred and George gulped. "Well, there IS a joke but it won't detonate or anything like that."

"Yeah, open it! It won't harm you"

Harry could have sworn he heard a "physically" muttered under their breath but decided to put caution to the wind and open it. There were aurors standing by, after all.

On top was a pair of white Y-fronts with red trim and was broomstick patterned. This pair, unlike the others, looked as if it would have fit him when he was seven.

He eyed Fred and George who were howling with laughter, yet again. Ginny reached around and snatched them from him. Before he could react she had held them up for the entire group to see. While the rest were lost in their mirth, Harry pulled out the actual gift inside the wrapping.

"What the?" Harry exclaimed in confusion.

Facing him was a plush doll that was about six inches high. It had black hair made out of licorice and was standing out from its head as if it were grass. It was wearing a black robe made out of a rock candy and had two green Bertie Botts every flavor beans for eyes. Around the bean-eyes were two circles drawn with icing that was connected by a small piece of chocolate making the glasses dominate it's face. On its forehead was a jagged icing line that took the shape of a bolt of lightning. In it's hand was a stick of chocolate that seemed to be an imitation of his wand.

Harry looked over at them waiting for them to explain. They grinned widely and began speaking in their twin language.

"Well, you see, my brother and I were thinking of things that students would want to buy,"

"And so we knew that you were it,"

"But we couldn't sell YOU so we decided to sell...well, YOU!"

"This is our version of Harry Potter! Say something to it"

One of them, Harry supposed it was George, leaned over and poked the miniature doll in it's back with his wand.

Harry watched in amazement as his little person shook his fist at the twin and said, "I'm NOT delicate!"

Ron edged up on his elbows and said "Harry, you've got to save the sorcerer's stone!"

The doll raised his wand up to fighting stance and said to Ron, "Stay here! I'm going to go and save the world. If I get hurt make sure you get yourself back safely, alright?"

"Good likeness, I think," said the twin Harry thought was Fred.

Secretly, Harry wondered if he really did sound like that. He suppressed a sigh and forced a wary smile to the twins. He said his thanks, but they weren't listening. They had just told mini Harry that he had to catch the snitch or Malfoy would be allowed to sleep in Gryffindor tower for a week. The Harry doll had a look of utmost disgust on his face and was pulling a chocolate broom with the words "My brooms better than Malfoy's" out of his pocket.

Hermione must have known that he was mulling how he across to people because she leant in to him and whispered in his ear, "I think they are only trying to exaggerate your bravery into humor. It's their way of saying they like your character traits."

Making a mental note to threaten the Twins into not selling the dolls to anyone, the green eyed sixteen year old only nodded his head and accepted the gift that Ginny pressed into his hands. She was smiling at him softly so he proceeded to open the rhiane green wrapped gift. On top of the actual gift was a pair of boxer shorts. Finally smiling with the humor that seemed to be contagious, Harry held up the pair of green silk shorts that had gold lightning bolts placed strategically over the soft material. Harry grinned over at Ginny and said that these were his favorite just to see her blush like old times when she had had a desperate crush on him.

He turned his attention back to the real present and discovered a deep red photo album that had a shiny gold spine. On the front "Harry Potter" was written in matching gold. The 'P' had a lightning bolt look to the tail. His mouth open in awe, Harry opened the album to find a brilliant picture of himself, Hermione, and Ron all with their arms around each other and laughing spiritedly. From the looks of them Harry guessed it was taken just before they left Hogwarts for summer holiday in first year.

Intrigued, he turned the page to find a picture of himself throwing up the snitch at his first quidditch match. Also on the same page was a picture of Ron and Hermione arguing in front of the fire in the common room. He looked up at Ginny with a raised eyebrow. She blushed again and started explaining.

"Those pictures I got from various older students in Gryffindor. The pictures from second year up I got from Collin."

"Collin?"

"Yeah, you're his main picture taking subject. You know that. I just well...in my first year I talked him into making me a double of any picture he ever took of you in exchange for some tutoring. I figured I would put them together to make you an album, though..." Ginny trailed off seeing that he flipping through the pages with Ron and Hermione now standing beside him exclaiming over the events in the pictures.

"Oh, Harry! That's after you and Ron saved me from the Toll."

"Yeah, remind me next time I start to make fun of you, that you'll end up locking yourself in a bathroom crying so that me and Harry have to rescue you," Ron muttered.

"Or you could just not make fun of me, Ron!"

"Hey, I didn't really look this bad after saving the sorcerer's stone did I" Harry asked partly to end the beginning of a feud and partly because he couldn't believe how roughed up he appeared. Also, it seemed Professor McGonagall had picked up that Hermione had lied about their motives with the Troll.

"Yes, Harry. Now maybe you'll realize why so many people worry about you all the time," Hermione exclaimed.

"Sorry, it's just...I look so small!"

"You still ARE!" This was Mrs. Weasley. She was eyeing him as if she had designs on force-feeding him that instant.

Harry gulped and turned the page and laughed at the image.

"This is the time Ron tried to curse Malfoy for calling Hermione a....erm...and then his wand backfired because it got snapped from the flying car and whomping willow incident! That's him belching up slugs!"

This time it was Ron who turned red.

"Yeah, well he shouldn't have said that about our Mione." He turned redder having announced possession over their best friend, but Harry nodded in agreement with him.

They shook their heads and continued to look through out the pages of their second year. When they reached the pictures of a depressed Harry being mocked in the hallways, Harry gently closed the picture book of his life saying they should look through the rest later. He set it down on the table and gave permission for Remus and Tonks to look at it. He turned to Ginny and said a very sincere "Thank You." She nodded in understanding.

Hermione's present turned out to be an ordinary pair of practical white boxers with blue pinstripes. He shook his head and lifted up a book that seemed to be the thickest one that Hermione could find.

"Hogwarts, A History? Hermione, we already know how to find the information that's in there. Ask you!" Ron said, clearly baffled at why she would give her best friend a book that he would most likely not read.

"Ron! I am not always around to recite information to you, that's why." Hermione claimed, warming up to the argument that she appeared to have expected.

"Ron, she's right. Remember what happened second year? She knew the answers but got petrified before she could relay any of it to us. It was lucky we were able to trick our way into the hospital wing and find the answers in her hand. She shouldn't have to be the one to do ALL of the learning for the three of us. Hermione," he said turning to her, "Thanks. I will attempt to read it before the end of the holidays. I'm no bookworm, but I think I can do it."

She beamed at him and pulled him in for an unexpected hug. After a considerable amount of time, she backed away slightly, wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth to his. Once again, Harry was shocked. It was one thing for Tonks, but this was his best friend! He made no move to participate but Hermione kept her lips touching his. He supposed she wouldn't pull away till he kissed back, so he did. This kiss only went on for about five seconds. Finally, she ended the kiss and smiled at him.

"What?!" she asked innocently, "You didn't think I would go against traditional wizarding rules, did you?"

Harry snorted and removed his hands from her waist. The crowd was smiling at his embarrassment again.

"Are you sure that this tradition wasn't started as a way of entertaining party guests at sixteenth birthday parties?" Harry asked grumpily.

They laughed as he opened the rest of his gifts receiving the usual mince pies and package from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, a wand holster from Mad Eye- CONSTANT VIGILANCE-, another book on defense against the dark arts from Kingsley Shacklebolt who wasn't able to make it to the party, and Hogwarts, A History from Professor McGonagall. They all laughed at the similarity between the professor and Hermione. Harry offered to let Hermione take the copy she had given him back for herself but she said she had her own. Therefore, Ron, despite his protests, was presented his own Hogwarts, A History.

There were now only two gifts left on the table. Harry picked up the smallest one and discovered an old snitch. It was rather bad for the wear and seemed to have lost its ability to fly. It simply hovered above his hand. He looked up at Remus, who it hand been from, and saw him nod to his silent question. It had been the same snitch his father had nicked in fifth year. Though it brought back bad memories of what he had seen in Snape's pensieve, he bottled it for the sake of Remus. He looked up and gave him a small smile and retuned the nod as his thanks. Remus smiled back at him tiredly.

Now the only gift left was a large square box resting in the middle of the table. It was very heavy. He drug it to him and stared at the wrapping. It appeared to be a gift for a small child. There were teddy bears and clown littering the paper. There was no seems in the wrapping, only a colorful tab on the very top. He pulled it and laughed at the BANG of exploding confetti. Color paper mache fell into his messy black hair. There was music playing as well tot he tune of "Happy Birthday" substituting his name into the correct place in the chorus. He laughed in delight, despite himself. The adults were giving the Headmaster reproving looks as if to say, "Really, Albus!" Harry didn't mind though. It may have been wrapping paper for a small child, but it was still very fun to open. He had never opened a gift like that before, not that he'd had many gifts to open that is.

When the confetti died down Harry looked the box and lifted out a stone pensieve. It was slightly smaller than Dumbledore's but was big enough to hold many thoughts and memories. The edge was decorated with phoenixes, a Gryffin, a stag, a large dog, a wolf, and a flower that he thought was a Lily. The bottom of the pensieve had a large lightning bolt on it.

Harry looked Dumbledore straight in the eye and said a very warm "Thank you very much, sir." He knew once he learned to use it, the pensieve would become a very useful and needed tool to his life.

"You are very welcome, Harry, but there is one more part to it. He levitated a chocolate frog over to him. Curious, Harry plucked it out of midair. It appeared to be a normal chocolate frog. He looked up in question.

"Open it," was all he got. The rest of the crowd seemed just as anxious about seeing what it was. Picked up the chocolate and stared down at his own face. He hastily shoved the frog into Ron's hands for eating. He gazed at the card that held his picture. He was riding standing on the quidditch pitch, firebolt in hand and holding snitch up high for the crowd to see, beaming so wide he was radiating happiness. The wording beneath it read:

Harry Potter, also known as The-Boy-Who-Lived, is most famously known for his triumph over He Who Must Not Be Named at the age of fifteen months and his survival of the Killing Curse. His lesser known accomplishments include saving the Sorcerer's Stone, his discovery of the Chamber of Secrets, and for winning the Tri Wizard Tournament. Harry Potter was admitted into the Gryffindor quidditch team in his first year, making him the youngest player in a century, as seeker. Harry has lost only one game out of a great few and rumored to be the best flyer known for at least fifty years.

He looked, or rather glared, at Dumbledore who was smiling and twinkling son brightly that even a Snape stare wouldn't have fazed him. Ron had already finished off the chocolate and was now snatching the card from Harry's hands and reading it out loud. When finished, everyone was looking at him for his reaction. To be truthful, Harry was greatly annoyed and slightly angry.

"How did I come to be on...on THAT?" He demanded as calmly as he could.

Dumbledore twinkled serenely at him and answered. "I have a friend who is in association with the printing of the cards. When he heard that they planned to make a card of you, he came to see me."

"And you told him all of this stuff?" Harry huffed.

"Most certainly, my boy. Would have rather they printed lies?"

"I would rather they hadn't printed it at all," Harry muttered darkly.

Dumbledore simply chuckled at him.

"Would it be too much to ask for you to talk your friend into stopping them from creating these?"

Dumbledore stopped laughing but was still smiling when he said, "It is too late, Harry. Those are currently in stores now. I am so sorry, my dear boy."

"Sure you are," Harry couldn't stop himself from saying, "You're the only nutter I know who actually likes having a chocolate frog card of himself."

To his surprise, as well as everyone else's, Albus Dumbledore stuck his tongue out at him childishly. Harry mock glared at him before saying, "At least it wasn't underwear."

Everyone burst into laughter again and Mrs. Weasley insisted that they have some birthday cake. She lit the candles and they sang the Happy Birthday song to him.

When Hermione told him to "Make a wish" he subjected himself to more pity stares when he asked why. Hermione had replied that it was a worldwide thing to do when blowing out birthday candles. Harry hadn't known this as whenever Dudley was having his birthday cake, he'd been doing chores around the house so that he couldn't steal a piece of the cake.

Though his stomach had been burning non-stop, Harry forced himself to eat a small slice of cake. He told himself the pain was easier to deal with than all the questions not eating would bring. After cake, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny helped him carry his gifts up to his room while Mrs. Weasley cleaned up the kitchen.

When they came back downstairs, Tonks was fiddling with what looked to be a muggle stereo. It proved to be a difficult job, with Mr. Weasley hovering behind her asking questions. She eventually got it tuned in to a station that didn't crackle too much. The song was not fast but not slow. She turned to Harry and insisted that he dance with her. He tried to tell her that wasn't good at dancing and that he didn't know how but Tonks, would have none of it. She placed his arms on the side of her waist and put her own hands on his shoulders. She told him that all he had to do way sway side to side and put his foot down with the beat. It was stunningly simple now that she had revealed the secret.

The song ended and a faster waltz came on and she began enthusiastically dragging him around the room, teaching him how to dance to that one as well. For the most of it, Harry was impressed at her gracefulness. She only stumbled into something twice.

Ron was beat red as Hermione started teaching him how to waltz as well. Soon the song was over and Harry was able to sit down with his friends as Tonks adjusted the radio to a more modern station. She grabbed Remus this time and started slow dancing with him, for the song. Mr. Weasley smiled and offered his hand to his only daughter who was glad to be able to join in.

Hoping to just watch, Harry stood there by the wall next to the door. Mrs. Weasley entered the room and smiled as she watched the couples dancing.

"Harry, would you like to dance with me?"

He wasn't given a chance to answer. He found himself the middle of the floor, arms around Mrs. Weasley, swaying from side to side.

"Happy birthday, Harry"

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley. You know you didn't have to-"

"Yes we did. It was about time you had a proper birthday. By the way, you can call me Molly. I think it's to formal for you to continue calling me Mrs. Weasley all the time."

Harry couldn't bring himself to say anything so he merely nodded.

When the song ended Mrs. Weasley kissed his cheek and told him, "Tradition!" before walking over to the rest of the adults. The next song was another slow song. He saw Ginny across the room, laughing at Ron who was still dancing with Hermione. He took a deep breath and walked over to her.

"Hey, Gin, would you like a dance?" He felt as if his heart was going to be infected with the stinging pain of his stomach that had seemingly jumped up a foot the moment he got with speaking distance of her.

Her eyes widened and she nodded, smiling at him. Relief flooded him and he could feel his mouth grinning crookedly.

They walked over to where Ron and Hermione were dancing. Harry let his arms encircle her tiny waist as she wrapped her around his neck. As they began dancing Harry felt an urge to pull her closer. It was his birthday, wasn't it? He decided to go for it before he could lose his nerve. He gently pulled her body to his. There was no resistance. She even laid her head against his chest. When the song ended Harry held on to her until he realized that everyone else had left the "dance floor" and was looking at him curiously.

Ginny leaned back and looked up at him, smiling mischievously. Harry felt himself having a problem breathing as he watched her grin widen. One of the hands on his neck was moving up to entangle in his messy black hair. She gently pulled his mouth down to hers with the other hand on his cheek. The kiss was amazing. It seemed to be sinfully sweet and soft as the silk of the boxers she had given him. He found he had no problem participating in this kiss. His hands on her waist tightened as he pulled her back up against him. He brushed his own lips in between hers and nibbled gently on her bottom lip. He heard a noise barely loud enough for him to hear, from her. He took that to mean she liked it. He took his tongue and ran it across her lip. She immediately granted him permission and depend the kiss. The hand that she had on his cheek joined its mate behind his neck and was rubbing the skin on his neck.

Harry had no intention of ending the kiss as he had blocked out the room full of people. In his mind it Ginny and himself. But then a throat cleared reminding Harry of his surroundings. He reluctantly pulled away; let his lip leave Ginny's with a soft smack. He kept his eyes closed for a moment longer, savoring the taste. When he opened them he saw that Ginny was looking up at him with that same mischievous smile. He smiled as she patted his cheek a couple times like an aunt would to her nephew.

He watched her walk over to Ron and Hermione, leaving him standing in the middle of attention. He quickly came back to his sense and went over to his friends. Ron was very quick to ask him for a game of chess. Harry was sure it was because he didn't what to say about Harry kissing his sister because it was a tradition and was allowed. Not to mention that Hermione, the girl he liked, had kissed him earlier.

Chess was even harder to play than usual with Ginny and Hermione conversing nearby and giggling about what he assumed to be the kissing that had taken place earlier. When Ron beat him in seven moves Harry apologized to Ron for kissing Hermione. Ron accepted quickly, which was out of character for him, and punched him on the shoulder playfully saying not to expect anything more than a hand shake from him, despite it being his birthday.

Lunch was served a little later than usual that day but Harry felt he would die if he attempted to eat anything. He picked and pushed the small portions around on his plate. When Hermione asked him about it he explained that he was still full from breakfast and the cake. She didn't seem to buy it but since it was his birthday she let it go.

After lunch Harry stared around at all the people smiling and laughing. He wished Sirius could have been there. It just didn't seem right, carrying on as if he hadn't died. He, Harry, most of all shouldn't be having any fun seeing as it was his fault that he was gone. He sighed as he thought of his Godfather. The only way he was able to see Sirius was in his nightmares. Nightmares; Harry's reason for avoiding sleep. Truth be told, he was very tired having been up all night and not having slept more than a few hours at most each night for the past three and a half weeks. He could feel his eyes drooping as he failed to keep himself busy. Luckily, his two best friends came up asking him to go get Ginny's gift so that they could through it. Thankful for a task, Harry donned his happy mask and smiled at them before forcing his body to move up the stairs and into his room. He upped his appearance by remorphing to give his face more color and liveliness.

Harry, Hermione, and Ginny settled down in the sitting room with his new photo album. They had just recovered his first and second year when Professor McGonagall came in and kissed his cheek, as she was the only female that hadn't. Hermione invited her to look through the album with them. Harry reinforced her invitation, as he didn't want to be rude to his Grandmother who had no clue that he knew that she was related to him.

They flipped back to the beginning of the book for the third time and proceeded. When they got to the picture that was taken after the troll incident, Harry and Ron had a hard time not laughing as Hermione struggled to explain her reasoning as to why she had lied. They weren't laughing nearly as hard when it was their turn to explain why they lied in second year when they were caught outside the girl's bathroom without an escort. He couldn't help but thank Ginny once more for a wonderful gift. He didn't even have to fake the smile that was on his face when she said she was glad he'd liked it.

Later that day when dinner was served, Harry's stomach still had not stopped burning. In fact he felt absolutely awful. His body seemed to be far too heavy for him and shaky. He mechanically took bites if his food when being watched. Halfway through the meal the stinging became so sharp his head started swimming with dizziness. He excused himself from the table and walked to the door. Once out of it he sprinted as fast as he could, knocking into one wall and then the other, to the bathroom. He burst in and dropped to the floor. He heaved his stomachs contents into the toilet.

He was still heaving dry air when his brain registered hurried footsteps. Strong arms wrapped around him from behind and helped to hold him over the toilet. When his stomach stopped convulsing his tiredly looked over his shoulder to see that the person holding him in their lap with a very worried expression was Remus Lupin.

"Moony," he whispered with thoughts of telling him he was fine, but Harry was not fine. He felt his abdomen ripple with pain again, and simply feinted into the arms of the darkness that was holding him tightly, a faint voice of "Harry?!" echoing in his ears.


	16. Ulcer Repercussions

**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling deserves all credit  
  
When Nightmares Are A Good Thing  
  
Chapter 16: Ulcer Repercussions  
**  
"...honestly, Albus!...How could you not have...really bad shape..."  
  
"...fail to see...notice...it would appear..."  
  
"-Yes...we need Severus...potions..."  
  
Harry cracked an eye open but quickly shut it, as the reality around him seemed to seep in. There was a bright light streaming in from a seam in one of the curtains covering the window that Harry thought to be in his room at Grimmauld Place. He wasn't too sure as he hadn't taken a good look and didn't want to try again. His entire body seemed to hurt in one way or another. There was a horrible taste in his dry mouth and his lips seemed to be cracked with the lack of wetness. His head felt dull and heavy with a pounding ache and the lasting dizziness. His stomach had the now familiar burning, more pronounced now than ever. The ribs inside of him were still ringing with the convulsing his body had done previously. Not only that, he felt as if he'd like nothing more than sleep but knew he shouldn't. It was lucky he hadn't had another nightmare while he'd been sleeping. He allowed himself to revel in the after bliss of a nightmare rest for a moment's time.  
  
The thought of sleeping brought back the memories as to why he was there and what had happened that night during dinner. Harry assumed the current time to be anywhere from morning to the evening, judging by the fact the sun had been shining so brightly from the peek he had taken. He couldn't bring himself to raise his head to look at the clock. The pain was tremendous and the voices that were speaking urgently in the room with him were not helping.  
  
So he lay there, hurting and fighting to stay awake, while the voices continued their discussion.  
  
"Albus, I think we should take him to Hogwarts. I can keep a better eye on him if he were secluded in the hospital wing."  
  
The tone had a stern edge to it. Harry recognized the tone rather than the voice as Madame Pomfrey, the school nurse. He briefly wondered what she was doing in his bedroom before he remembered retching into the toilet during his own birthday dinner as Remus held him till he fainted. He cringed inwardly as the reality completely dawned on him. They knew he was sick and hiding it. She was here to see to his health.  
  
"We cannot risk transferring him to Hogwarts now. He is safe here and moving him in this condition would be difficult to do without raising suspicion. I also do not think it wise to remove him from his friends at a time like this." said the voice of his Grandfather.  
  
Another voice spoke up, leaden with worry and sadness. "Poppy, what IS wrong with him? Please tell me it's just the wizarding flu or something." He wasn't sure but he thought that the person who had just spoken was Remus. His voice was coming from the other side of his bed, as if he were standing by the other side or even sitting.  
  
"Remus, he has an ulcer."  
  
A new voice, a woman's, joined in, "An ulcer?" What was McGonagall doing in his room? In fact, why were Madame Pomfrey, Albus Dumbledore, Remus Lupin, AND Minerva McGonagall gathered in his room discussing his health where he could hear it? Why were they discussing his health at all? A new thought popped into his head, pushing the previous one aside to give itself Harry's full attention. He had an ulcer? How had THAT happened? He'd heard of them and knew what they were but...  
  
"Yes, Minerva an ulcer," Madame Pomfrey reinforced promptly.  
  
There was a creak of door being opened and then shut. The tense and extremely concerned voice of Molly Weasley rang as she set something down on the bedside table near where Remus was and demanded, quite vocally, to know what was wrong with Harry.  
  
"The kids are half out of their minds with worry that it has something to do with you know who. I had to put up some spells to keep them from sneaking up here and visiting Harry. No doubt they'll find a way to figure out what's going on if we don't tell them something before Fred and George get back from their store to help."  
  
"It's an ulcer, Molly." Remus said tiredly. The lack of sleep and abundance of wearisome was evident.  
  
"How in the world did that boy get an ulcer?"  
  
"He's not a little boy anymore, Molly," the Headmaster announced, "He may not look it but he is far from being the age sixteen. He shoulders many burdens and has many horrific events in his past that leaden him with plenty of negative emotions that would make it very easy to procure this kind of an aliment, I should imagine."  
  
"What sort of negative emotions do think caused this?" his Grandmother asked the room in general.  
  
"I'd say it could be any of a vast sort. Anger, grief, sadness, guilt..." Dumbledore answered.  
  
A sniff was heard, though Harry couldn't tell who it came from. Silence dominated for a moment before Madame Pomfrey began explaining the extent of his illness.  
  
"The ulcer is roughly the size of a snitch. It's very well developed so it has to be about two months old. My guess is that he's only truly felt the pain of it for a month though.'  
  
"Wouldn't he have had trouble eating if his stomach was hurting all that time?" Molly asked. No one ever questioned where Ron got his constant food train tracked-mind from.  
  
"Yes. Harry has always been malnourished. Right now it has reached an all time low. He's had a growth spurt that must have stripped him of any nutrients his body had. Couple that with the fact that he hasn't seemed to eaten much of anything for at least a month and the fact that I found evidence of lots of coffee and a trace of straight alcohol in his system..."  
  
"How on earth would Harry have gotten a hold on alcohol? He's not of age?" Mrs. Weasley nearly shouted indignantly before the others reminded her to keep her voice down because Harry was still asleep.  
  
"Molly, it _is_ VERY possible for a teenager to get a hold of the stuff. Harry is very cunning and sneaky. S-Sirius and James were able to get it in our youth, so it's probable." Remus said softly.  
  
"I would say he had to have obtained before he got to Privet Drive as there were guards watching the house. They never saw him come outside, really." Dumbledore added.  
  
Harry suppressed a snort, as he knew he had successfully pulled one over on the Order not to mention the Headmaster of the school that knew everything. Of course he'd never tell them that it had been Fred and George who smuggled it to him through a parcel.  
  
"Could Dursley have had it in stock?" McGonagall questioned thoughtfully.  
  
This time Remus snorted. "There was enough padlocks on Harry's bedroom door to keep a mountain troll from escaping, the last time I was there. I doubt very much that if he had it in the house, Harry could or would have nicked it."  
  
Harry mentally winced as he heard Remus confess his lock down last summer to the room. That was one more thing for them to pity him for.  
  
"What else seems to be wrong with Mr. Potter?" McGonagall asked the nurse.  
  
"He's sleep deprived. Really Albus, you admitted to having been alone with him for over an hour the night before. How could you not have noticed the bags under his eyes? He's as pale as day!"  
  
It seemed the Headmaster was just as affected by Pomfrey as the rest of the world for he said nothing to being subjected to her lecture. Harry almost felt bad for having gotten Dumbledore into trouble. It wasn't his that he didn't know that Harry was a metamorphmagus who altered the purple lines underneath his eyes and white clammy skin.  
  
"Do you suspect the stomach pains to be the cause?" Molly asked in shock at the thought of her adopted son being in pain all throughout the day.  
  
"I don't know what to blame. It will be up to Mr. Potter to determine why he hasn't been sleeping more than an hour or two per day. When he wakes he has a some stout healing to do." Pomfrey stated.  
  
He heard collective sighs around the room as the adults present tried to solve the puzzle that was Harry's life and health. Inwardly, Harry wondered if his stomach would ever cease it's endless burning and stinging.  
  
The call to sleep was very strong lying in his bed like that. He knew to avoid sleep he'd have to get up and move about, but the adults weren't leaving. After five more minuets Harry decided not to procrastinate and to face it like a man. He faked a deep intake of breath and rolled over onto his back. He rubbed his eyes and reached for his glasses. He quickly sat up and rubbed his eyes before putting his glasses on, avoiding to "take note" of the people in the room with him.  
  
He felt oddly hot and yet he was freezing. Only then did he notice that he was wearing nothing but the boxers he had dressed himself in the morning of his birthday. He turned his wrist so that the scar was out of sight and tilted his head downward. He placed his hands over his features with the pretense of sleepily scrubbing it. Focusing hard, Harry screwed up his mind and face in order to concentrate on camouflaging the scars on his back and wrist into smooth matching skin that claimed most of his limbs.  
  
Nothing was said for a moment, ensuring that they hadn't seen him alter the appearance of his skin. He finally looked up and saw that he'd been right about the voices that he'd heard before he "awoke". Remus was slumped into a chair to the right of him. At the foot of his bed, Molly Weasley, Minerva McGonagall, Poppy Pomfrey, and Albus Dumbledore were perched. They all looked a tad bit anxious, to Harry.  
  
"How are you feeling, Harry?" Remus asked him. His voice seemed rushed, and calmly devoid of emotion.  
  
The green eyed boy looked over at him and decided, judging by the look on his face, that he was masking any feelings he had at the moment.  
  
"I'm fine," Harry lied. He knew that he wasn't supposed to have heard their conversation so he needed to act as if he hadn't heard it. If he hadn't heard it, he would have proceeded to keep up his façade of perfect health. He was, however, aware that they knew he was lying but Harry assumed it was better to have them know he was still concealing his pain rather than let them know that he'd over heard their discussion.  
  
The adults, excluding Dumbledore, all seemed to be taken aback that Harry could be in pain and still have the strength to hide it when they knew. But they didn't know that he knew they knew. Therefore he was subjected to listening to Madame Pomfrey re-explain his ulcer and what might have caused it and that he needed to sleep, and to let his stomach calm down from the night before, before it could be properly healed. All of this was done with much poking and prodding from the school nurse all the while Remus was sympathizing with him, not at his ulcer but at having to deal with a Madame Pomfrey in over protection mode.  
  
"Do you have any questions, Mr. Potter?" The nurse had, by the time she asked the question; already gone through his malnourishment, sleep deprivation, the hole in his stomach, and the fact that he appeared normal (according the rest of the household) until he had retched up all the food he had managed to keep down on the night of his birthday twice.  
  
"Madame Pomfrey, we see each other much too often for you to call me that. Shouldn't we be on first name terms by now? I mean, these little rendezvous have got to stop. At least until school starts back up, anyway!"  
  
Harry flashed a slow cheeky grin up at the flustered nurse, whose face was brighter than Trelawney claimed Mars to be when she tried to tell him that it was his death day.  
  
She stuttered dumbly for a moment. Harry knew he had taken her for surprise with that incentive joke, but there was a purpose for doing it.  
  
"Have someone fetch me if you start to feel worse," was all she said as she fled the room, her face burning in embarrassment.  
  
When the door had closed behind her, McGonagall was the first to burst out laughing. It was a very odd thing to witness. The stern witch, who always seemed to be frowning at any sort of fun, thought it was funny. He's only been aiming to misdirect the question she had asked him into an area of conversation that was free of his own health.  
  
Remus and Dumbledore were chuckling merrily along with his Grandmother. Molly seemed to be resisting the urge to laugh, but was smiling.  
  
"I don't believe I have EVER seen Poppy so flustered in my entire life!" the Headmistress managed to choke out. Even Harry couldn't help but smile as well.  
  
As he sat back up from the slight examination, Harry pushed back the blankets that were covering his legs. The cool air enveloped the clammy skin on his legs in relief. He rubbed a hand over his chin as he considered what the people present thought of his health.  
  
He didn't get much further than that as his hand reached a slight shadow on his face. He knew it wasn't very visible but he could feel that he needed to shave. It had been almost a week since he'd shaved last. He passed his hand over his jaw line, successfully irritating the stubbly prickles of hair on his chin.  
  
Remus was looking at him thoughtfully. "Well, Harry, I believe you'll want to wash up before you have to go back to sleep, right?"  
  
Dumbledore and McGonagall, and Molly walked over to the door and left, leaving instructions to ask for them if he needed anything. Harry shook his head as he knew that he'd have to take that type of treatment until he could convince everyone that he was fine.  
  
When they left, Harry stood up but quickly sat down as his head began swimming. Remus was there in as instant. After the dizziness had cleared, the elder man helped Harry up and walk over to his trunk where he gave Remus instructions to get which toiletries and pajamas.  
  
Slowly the two made it to the bathroom and Remus said he would be right outside the door if he needed anything or started to feel sick. Harry had only rolled his eyes before shutting the door. He wasn't sure whether he felt more pleased that Remus still cared enough for him to wait on him, or annoyed at being privately watched so closely.  
  
The lukewarm water felt good to Harry. He took his time cleaning, as he didn't have much of a choice. One quick movement set him back by two minutes. He shaved in the shower, not wanting to make a mess in the sink. It was hard without a mirror, but he managed. The act was calming.  
  
_'I wonder if I could "shave" with my metamorphmagi skills?'_  
  
Well, the next time he needed to shave, he made a mental note to attempt it.  
  
He dried off and changed into a crisp white tee shirt and cotton pajama pants that were a red plaid. Before he stepped out of the bathroom, he consulted the mirror and nearly jumped. There were dark smudges under his eyes and he seemed paler than he could remember. The only thing he could figure was that when he passed out, he subconscious reverted back to his normal state as he did when he slept. The others had seen his face though so fixing it now was no good. He did make sure that his scars were blended in well, before opening the door to find Remus asleep sitting against the wall opposite the bathroom.  
  
The sight made Harry laugh. Startled, Remus jerked awake. He seemed to stare at Harry a moment before realizing what had happened. He smiled sheepishly at Harry before standing up stiffly and escorting him back to his room.  
  
"You need to go to sleep now," Remus said as he helped Harry into bed, ignoring his protests.  
  
"I'm not tired," Harry lied.  
  
Remus surveyed him for a moment. He gently pushed Harry over so that he was in the very center of the bed, and sat down next to him.  
  
"You ARE tired, you just don't want to be. Harry... you need to sleep. If you don't...well you'll end up worse than you are now. I can't give you any dreamless sleep as your stomach is still quite jumbled." He glanced over at Harry and put his arm around the raven-haired boy's shoulders.  
  
"Look, I know there must be a more valid reason for you to be avoiding sleep so ardently. After...after...well it's always hard, in my experience, to sleep peacefully after the death of a loved one.  
  
Harry shuddered as he realized what Lupin, who was always the intuitive one, was getting at. He ducked his head and turned away. Remus would have none of that, however.  
  
He was quickly pulled into a strong hug. Remus had wrapped his arms around Harry, forcing his head onto his shoulder. Being held tightly like that felt good. It arose a strong emotion within Harry. Eventually, Harry gave in and brought his arms up to hug Remus back. Encouraged, Remus pulled Harry into his lap as he leaned back across the headboard of Harry's bed.  
  
The part of Harry that grew up with the Dursley's told him that he was being weak. Letting outsiders see him hurting. The half that was raised in the wizarding world knew better than to think that Remus would think any less of him. Never the less, all of Harry was comforted by Remus's action of caring. To put it plainly, Harry was very tired mentally and physically. He didn't have the strength or will power at that moment to continue arguing with his inner voices. He decided instead to just do what he wanted. And so, he gave in to the layer of warmth that was around him.  
  
It was comfortable being held by someone who seemed to care. It felt so good that Harry allowed Remus to rub circles into his back and run a hand through his hair soothingly. Harry felt that he could not stay awake any longer as his eyes drooped and he fell asleep against Remus.  
  
When Harry opened his eyes again it was starting to get dark outside. He thought he was alone until he noticed Remus slumped in a chair next to him. He put his glasses on and shook Remus once. He started awake and noticed that Harry was awake. The man must have been awake most of the night if he was as tired as Harry was.  
  
"How are you feeling? Don't you dare say fine!" Remus said.  
  
Harry snapped his mouth closed and swallowed the word he had been about to utter.  
  
"Here, I need you to take some potions. Madame Pomfrey thought it best to let you sleep naturally for a bit longer before we drug you."  
  
Remus was busy at the nightstand selecting the proper vials of potions that appeared to be freshly brewed.  
  
"This is a nausea potion. It's to keep anything from upsetting your stomach."  
  
When that was swallowed and Harry's stomach felt like it was coated with a thick layer of protective rubber, Remus handed him another bottle.  
  
"That's to heal the hole in your stomach."  
  
Since he wasn't supposed to have heard the conversation earlier that morning, Harry raised an eyebrow up to let Remus think he had no idea about his condition.  
  
"Harry you have an ulcer. Some of your...err...feelings have been eating away at your stomach lining. That's what an ulcer is, basically; an unneeded hole in you stomach." Remus said kindly as he took a seat next where Harry on the bed where he was lying propped up on pillows. "That's why it hurts to eat anything and probably to think about anything that causes you distress."  
  
Looking away, Harry decided that it made a lot of sense. It did usually hurt most after eating, thinking, or nightmares. He downed the potion that was supposed to heal his stomach. The healing was added to the pain slightly as it sealed the ulcer. Harry did his best not to grimace. He was so lost in keeping his face straight that he didn't notice Remus holding hand or that he was gripping it tightly.  
  
Just when the gut wrenching healing potion was calming down in his abdomen, Remus handed him yet another.  
  
"This is a nutrient potion. Hope you like the flavor because between Molly, Minerva and Poppy you're going to be taking one everyday for the rest of summer if not longer."  
  
Harry treated the potion like his muggle alcohol and threw it back. The taste was disgusting, like rotted wood. This time he couldn't help but gag dramatically and clutch his throat.  
  
Remus chuckled and patted Harry on the back, who was expecting, now that he was awake, a long speech on why he had concealed his illness, or how he obtained alcohol but none came. Instead Remus stood up and walked over to the side of the bed that he was lying nearest to.  
  
He said nothing but stood up as Remus placed a hand on his back and helped him walk on shaky legs to the bathroom that he had thrown up in almost twenty-four hours earlier.  
  
It was when he came out and Remus tried to escort him back to his room, that they were at odds.  
  
"Remus, I should go downstairs and talk to Hermione, Ron, and Ginny. I'm sure nothing's changed since last summer when we were told nothing of what was going on. I think I should tell them what's wrong with my stomach." Harry insisted. In truth, he didn't want to tell them anything about his pain, but did want to get out of his bed and this seemed to be his best bet.  
  
"You're not even supposed to be out of bed, Harry! Poppy's going to be after my blood if she finds out!"  
  
"Well, then I will tell her I placed you under a confundous charm and forced you to believe that I was completely healed. Besides, that potion seems to have worked. I AM healed. I don't see why I can't speak to my friends for a few moments. It's not like I asked to play a rousing game of chess or anything." Harry said sarcastically.  
  
"Fine, but you deal with Pomfrey when the time comes. You know as well as I do that your ulcer was not the only thing you were suffering from," Remus whispered.  
  
"What are you talking about Pro- Remus?"  
  
"I mean, you have dreams that keep you from wanting to sleep. Not to mention that since you had a hole in your stomach, you've not eaten anything and are severely sick from lack of nutrition and sleep deprivation!" he said in a loud whisper.  
  
"Oh-" Harry said simply. There was no denying it. He remembered how Remus had gotten him to sleep earlier.  
  
In a normal voice, Remus asked, "What are you going to tell them?"  
  
For a moment Harry panicked that the amber-eyed man was referring to the prophecy, but then remembered that he didn't know. "Um...maybe that there's a desegregated hole that burnt itself into my stomach lining."  
  
A soft chuckle came from Remus, who was still standing behind him with one hand on his back and the other around his upper arm as they descended the stairs. Normally, Harry would have protested at the procedure but he knew that he needed Remus's help. Besides that, Harry thought it was helping Remus to think he was helping Harry.  
  
In the sitting room were Ginny, Ron, and Hermione. All were sitting nearby each other. Hermione had a book in her lap but was not reading. Fred and George were sitting on the coach staring into space. Ron stood up abruptly from his armchair and began pacing. He hadn't been completely sure until then about whether or not the adults of the house had seen fit to tell the kids what was going on. Then again, they probably thought it Harry personal business to tell them or not.  
  
It was Ginny who spotted Harry and shrieked "Harry!"  
  
She ran up to hug him fiercely but paused when she noticed Remus was helping him walk. Harry held his arms open in admittance. She rushed into them and nearly made him lose his balance. When she pulled away, a crying Hermione filled them just as the adults, who had been conversing in the drawing room, entered to see what had caused Ginny to yell his name.  
  
Hermione pulled away, apologizing for crying on his shirt.  
  
"Harry! What are you doing out of bed, dear?" Mrs. Weasley admonished, giving Remus a pointed look that told Harry she was not speaking him despite the fact that she used his name.  
  
"It's my fault Mrs. Wea-"  
  
"Molly"  
  
"Right, well it's my fault. I forced Remus to help me down here." Harry said firmly.  
  
With that he walked as strongly as he could over to the couch and dropped exhaustedly into the open seat next to Fred and George. Some of the quiver in his limbs must have shown because the room was staring at him questionably. Thankfully, Remus got the adults to follow him back into the drawing room to finish their conversations, calling to Harry to let him know if he needed anything at all.  
  
When they were alone, Harry turned back to his friends and noticed they were staring at him oddly.  
  
"You look terrible, Mate!" Ron said bluntly.  
  
Despite the statement, Harry grinned slightly, "Thanks, Mate."  
  
It was probably true. He hadn't been able to morph away the shadows under his eyes. He had no choice but to allow his pale face complete with purplish blue smudges to be seen.  
  
Nobody said anything for a moment or two. Then Hermione spoke up.  
  
"What's wrong, Harry?"  
  
With a sigh, Harry started explaining. "Basically, I have, well did have an ulcer in my stomach."  
  
"An ulcer?! Harry, that's really serious!" Hermione claimed. Harry could tell she had an itch to go research them in the library.  
  
"Actually, it's already been healed. I took a potion to fix not to long ago," he said nonchalantly.  
  
Ron looked dumbfounded, like Crabbe when asked to answer a question in transfiguration. "Erm...what's an ulcer exactly?"  
  
Knowing that his girl best friend would explain, Harry budged up a bit so that Ginny could sit down rather than stand behind the couch, making him nervous.  
  
"An ulcer usually occurs when a person develops from an excessive amount of negative emotions or thoughts that eat away at their host's conscious. It makes them sick and their stomach acid will start eating a hole into its interior lining."  
  
(A/N: I am NOT a genius here. Please just accept what I have said about ulcers to be true, even if it's wrong. The math/science part of my brain is not as pronounced as the reading/writing and literature comprehension side is.)  
  
Silence rang for a moment. Harry could feel their eyes on him, begging him to explain as none of them wanted to make him angry by asking the wrong question. With a sigh, Harry launched into detail.  
  
"Remus said that it could have been cause by feeling guilty, depressed, or angry and bottling it up," he shook his head so they might be persuaded to think that he didn't believe that was the reason.  
  
"Harry, did Madame Pomfrey say how large the ulcer was?" Ginny asked cautiously.  
  
"Um, she guesses the same as a snitch-"  
  
"A SNITCH! Harry, for it to be snitch sized it had to have been growing for at least a month or two which means you've known something was wrong and didn't say anything! Ulcers practically prevent a person from eating due to the pains and aches." Hermione shouted at him. He briefly wondered if his foresight at knowing that Hermione would reprimand him for hiding it could be considered seer material.  
  
"Yes, well it _is _my body and it is within my own private rights to keep a few dull pains to myself" Harry retorted. But the pains had not been dull.  
  
This time it was Ron who stopped the impeding feud. "Whatever the details are, Harry's ulcer had been healed and he'll be better in a few days, right?"  
  
Harry brought his eyes to meet Ron's. He seemed very innocent to Harry; believing that everything would automatically fix it's self and be back normality.  
  
Before he could contemplate what to say to that, Fred (he thought) inquired, "If he's gonna be alright, why did Professor Lupin have to help him walk?"  
  
Hermione would have given Ron a triumphant look for being right had it not meant that there was more wrong with Harry's body and health.  
  
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I'm just a little tired. I threw up my guts yesterday night..."  
  
"Yes, but Harry-"  
  
"Hermione, he's sick! Save the lectures for when he's well enough to properly ignore you!" Ron said annoyed.  
  
She had stopped patronizing Harry to glare at Ron who was not paying attention to her stares in the least.  
  
"Good to see youngsters enjoying theirs summers, isn't it Fred?" said George, elbowing his twin who laughed in agreement.  
  
"Honestly. How _did _you get a hold of alcohol, Harry" Hermione demanded bossily.  
  
"That, my dear Hermione, is a secret that I will not reveal." Harry said secretively  
  
She snorted uncharacteristically. "Just please tell me you didn't break any laws to get it," she pleaded hopefully.  
  
"The only official law I broke was drinking it while I was too young."  
  
She nodded her head and let it drop for the time being.  
  
There was an awkward tense moment. It seemed they were trying to process the extent of Harry's health without pitying him or embarrassing him, which he was grateful for. Instead they began talking about trivial things.  
  
Remus came back shortly and half carried Harry up to his room as he was too tired and too spent to exert himself much more. He placed him in his bed and handed him a vial of what Harry knew to dreamless sleep. Before he could swallow it, Remus hugged him again.  
  
It took less time for Harry to relax into the hug this time. He felt safe and loved when Remus hugged him like this. It was almost as if someone cared for him. With a pang Harry was reminded of Sirius.  
  
"Harry, you and I have many things to discuss, but later. Right now you need to sleep peacefully. Before you do, I want you to know that I am so sorry for the way you life has been. I wish I could make the hurt go away, but I can't. I am here for you if you ever need anything. I care a lot about you, you know?"  
  
Harry only nodded. His throat felt tight and his heart felt heavy as he missed Sirius.  
  
"Thanks, Moony."  
  
Remus smiled at him and brushed the hair back from his face he help him settle into the blankets and then tipped the vial of dreamless sleep enough to Harry to swallow it and fall asleep dreamlessly.


	17. Bizarre Bedside Behaviors

**Disclaimer: J.K. owns it all  
  
When Nightmares Are A Good Thing  
  
Chapter 17: Bizarre Bedside Behaviors**  
  
Warmth. Security. Comfort. Weariness. Harry Potter wanted nothing more than to give in to these benign luxuries that were pressing into him with their comfortable weight, by rolling over and taking a deep breath of the refreshing air before relaxing back into the cozy layers of sleep that had been holding him so tightly. It made him feel safe and worriless, lying there in his comfortable bed with the warm glow of the morning's dazzling sunlight upon him. But, as always, something was out of place. Something had changed since he fell asleep last night.  
  
Not bothering to open his eyes, Harry was curious. His mind trudged through the coating of exhaustion that he had been reveling in. There was something wrong with his hand. It felt almost as if it were being crushed. Of course, in his nightmares, Harry had several times lodged himself into an awkward position that cut of circulation to an unfortunate limb.  
  
_'Perhaps I've slept on my hand funny,'  
_  
But that didn't seem right. At the moment, Harry was lying on his back and had been as he had not moved so much as an eyelid since he had awoke. His hand was undoubtedly what had awoken him though.  
  
Cursing his luck, Harry forced an eye open. The sun was filtering through the open curtain and had lit up the entire room with its yellowy rays of sunshine. The door, in front of Harry and his bed had been closed since he had last fallen asleep during the night.  
  
Finally realizing that what ever was wrong with his hand had awoken him for good, Harry was awake enough to turn his head slightly to the left to look at his hand. It was resting on top of the maroon duvet with another intertwined with it. The other hand was gripping his own so hard that Harry wondered if he had been engaged in a game of mercy during his lie in.  
  
Harry's green eyes traveled up the other hand's arm to find it connected to Albus Dumbledore. Harry said nothing as he quietly studied the man. He seemed truly old and out of character, Harry thought.  
  
He was sitting in the hard wooden chair that was mate to the desk in Harry's room, which was unusual because Harry assumed that the man was capable of conjuring a much more comfortable chair to sit in while awaiting for his own return to consciousness. Dumbledore was slouched over in the seat, the back of it completely untouched as its user was sitting forward with his left elbow on his left knee supporting the head that was resting in it's hand. His right forearm was laying on the edge of Harry's bed while its hand was holding Harry's very securely.  
  
Briefly, Harry had come to the palpable conclusion that the Headmaster had fallen asleep. But after a moment of watching the man in the chair, he was proved wrong. The left hand of Albus Dumbledore scrubbed at his face tiredly. He seemed to be lost in thought. A loud sigh was heard from Dumbledore and his grip tightened on Harry's hand.  
  
Why was his Grandfather holding, no gripping his hand? Why didn't it bother Harry? How _did _he feel about his Grandfather now?  
  
Harry found he couldn't fault him for wanting to keep the prophecy a secret. He still would have preferred to have known about it from the beginning. He bitterly thought to himself that had he known, Sirius would still be alive. Although he thought that, Harry knew that still didn't excuse him from his careless actions to rescue his Godfather. No. He should have been told about the prophecy, but he didn't blame Sirius's death on it. That had been his own fault. Perhaps he had forgiven Dumbledore for that a long time ago with out realizing it.  
  
Yes, that would make sense. But forgiveness for the prophecy did not keep a small flicker of anger from licking at his insides when he thought about the way Dumbledore had lied to him about his "last remaining relatives". Once again Harry found himself trapped between his own mind, bickering over whether he was angry at being lied to and abandoned or sympathy with the man for having to be related to the-boy-who-lived. It was a never-ending carousal ride that Harry desperately wished would sort itself out before he became sick from the ride.  
  
Harry suppressed a sigh as he pulled away from those thoughts and decided to try to not analyze them anymore. He would just go by what he felt, whenever he felt it.  
  
Before Harry could decide whether or not to alert Dumbledore of his consciousness, the man sat back in his seat dejectedly. When he brought his left hand away from his features, he looked upon Harry.  
  
A mutual silence filled the air. Dumbledore was holding his hand while sitting with Harry while he slept. Harry had awoken and had seen Dumbledore...brooding? That didn't seem to be fit, though. His Grandfather, while human, had always come across as too mature for such a thing. Not to mention, there had to be something wrong for him to behave that way. Before confusion could rise up, Harry found a soft smile cross his face. Dumbledore _was_ brooding. Harry knew because the Headmaster had gone through almost all the motions that Harry did when mulling things over. Well, except running his fingers through his hair. But if your hair was as long and neat as Professor Dumbledore's was, it kind of made that action impossible.  
  
The grip loosened on his hand, but Dumbledore did not let go of it. In fact, the man did not make any acknowledgment that he knew that he was holding the hand of one of his students, his only grandson no less. Instead, the wise old man drug his chair up even closer to the bed and twinkled down at Harry, who was still smiling softly, having discovered where he had picked up some of his thinking traits from.  
  
"It is good to see you awake, my dear boy," Dumbledore said. He was smiling as well but in a saddened kind of way.  
  
It made Harry wonder what could have happened. His first suspicion was that Voldemort had done something in the night.  
  
_ 'If that were true, why is he here? Wouldn't he have more pressing matters at hand than watching me sleep?'_  
  
Suddenly concerned, Harry sat up in bed quickly while reaching over the bed to find his eyeglasses on his nightstand.  
  
"Sir, what's wrong? What's happened? Is everyone all right? Why didn't someone wake me-?"  
  
"Shhh, Harry. There is no such problem. I am curious as to why you suspected that there was something wrong, if you don't mind," his Grandfather stated, sitting up a bit straighter.  
  
"You-you just...you gave me that look," Harry whispered softly as he leaned backward.  
  
"What look, Harry?"  
  
"The one that means we have to talk about something that I'm not gonna like."  
  
"Ah, yes. Well, I am afraid that I have become too readable because we do indeed need to discuss a few things. I know you don't want to but I fear putting them off any longer," was the reply.  
  
Harry collapsed backward onto his pillow; relief and unused adrenaline pumping back into his heart and chest. He should have known this was coming. He had gotten off far too easily the last time. Harry said nothing to provoke or encourage the Headmaster's conversation.  
  
After a well-measured minuet of silence, Dumbledore said, "I think we should start with Dolores Jane Umbridge. She has been completely removed from her professorship at Hogwarts and her position as Headmistress has been revoked, as you well know. After the Holiday's commenced, the Ministry was flooded with letters from angry parents reporting Dolores's behavior towards the students.  
  
"As unfair as her actions were to almost all students, none of them were serious enough to provide proper evidence for conviction serious enough to offer any punishment. Without conviction, I fear that she will become quite a thorn in our sides. I believe you are the biggest victim of her siege. You have the means of convicting her, Harry. I cannot testify to what happened that evening in June, as I was not there. Only you, Mr. Weasley, Miss Weasley, Miss Granger, Miss Lovegood, and Mr. Longbottom could do it properly.  
  
"I realize that this will be a bit unfair to you, but I know you will do what's right in the end. A trial is being scheduled for Dolores. The six of you will be testifying against her, if you consent to."  
  
Harry resumed his tactic of gazing at a defined spot; in this case it was a minuscule crack above the door, on the wall opposite him. It wasn't a very interesting crack and Harry felt that he was being immature. He glanced over at Dumbledore who was studying him as if he had never seen him before.  
  
"Professor?"  
  
"What? Oh, I'm sorry, my boy."  
  
"I was just going to tell you to go ahead and ask whatever questions you wanted to ask," Harry said. He didn't want to answer any of them, but knew he wouldn't get away from them this time. If he could get the Headmaster to ask straight, blunt questions he might not have to reveal more than necessary.  
  
As if reading his mind, Dumbledore smiled.  
  
"Of course! First off, about how many detentions did you have with Dolores?"  
  
Harry calculated up the weeks and then the hours in his head. He gave the rather impressive number to the Headmaster who acknowledged them with a nod.  
  
"Almost eighty hours worth."  
  
"Well, I think you may have joined the ranks with that number. The only students to receive that many detentions from a single teacher in a single school year are James Potter, Sirius Black, and Fred and George Weasley."  
  
Harry opened his mouth to defend himself, that he shouldn't have been given the detentions in the first place, but found himself asking, "Which professor gave them that many detentions in a single year?"  
  
Dumbledore smiled. "I believe that would be Professor McGonagall. Though I happen to know she found some of those four's pranks quite funny. Especially Fred and George's last pranks before they left school. I an curious as to whether or not she would dole out punishment for that had they been in the position for her to be able to."  
  
Harry's lips turned upward in a smile. The Twins had been rather hilarious right up until they sped out of Hogwarts on their broom, leaving a supercharged Peeves to pick up where they left off in their wake.  
  
"In all the time that you spent in detention, what sort of things would she have you do?"  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow at him as if the answer were obvious.  
  
"Yes, I know the end result but I need to know if all your detentions were like that or if some of them were normal," Dumbledore explained kindly.  
  
"Well, I entered the room and she told me she would not allow the 'speaking my lies'. Then she pointed out a piece of parchment and a quill. She told me to write the line "I must not tell lies" until she gave further notice. I pointed out that I would need ink but she said that the quill was special and that ink was irrelevant. The first time I wrote it, I was surprised. As I wrote, the words were traced onto the back of my writing hand. At first the words disappeared leaving my skin all red and irritated. The more lines I wrote, the deeper the etching went and the more permanent it became."  
  
"I believe that the quill she used is called a Blood Quill. You understand what it does, making it illegal for almost a century. The use of it is punishable by law...I would assume that as your detentions progressed, the writing on your hand became scarred?"  
  
He nodded and reached awkwardly to show Dumbledore his right hand that held the scar. The Headmaster was now holding both of his hands. His right, unlike his left, was not intertwined with the other man's but being positioned at an angle much like the one would use to admire a lady's wedding ring and such.  
  
Fingers were tracing along the scarred letters of his flesh. It tickled in a soothing way. Dumbledore gently released his marked hand but retained his grip on the other. They had been talking for a while now and Harry had almost forgotten to be curious of the comforting effort.  
  
"It has not been infected. You used murlap essence?" It was more of a statement, rather a question.  
  
"Yes, Hermione insisted," Harry mumbled.  
  
"It is good she did. Especially since you saw no cause to concern a teacher with it."  
  
It was spoken in Dumbledore's polite voice but it had a bit of a bite in it. Harry instantly lowered his head.  
  
"I am not angry, my boy, merely concerned that you would let someone force you to eternally deface the skin of your own body."  
  
Harry jerked his face up to stare into the calm blue eyes that were upon him. He had made it sound as if it were Harry's fault that he had "I must not tell lies" on his hand.  
  
Albus Dumbledore tiredly raised his own left hand to remove his half moon spectacles. He rubbed at his eyes, exposing his weakness without a second thought to Harry.  
  
"Harry, why did you not tell me that Dolores was having you slice words into yourself so brutally?" he asked with a hint of pleading, "Did it not hurt?"  
  
"Yes," Harry said quietly. He slowly flexed his hand in front of him, while deciding on the best way to answer the questions asked by the man holding his other hand.  
  
He sighed and rubbed his own eyes underneath his round glasses.  
  
"I know you are a very busy man what with Fudge, Voldemort, the school and the order. My detentions, as unfair as they were, were my own predicament. By telling you or a teacher, it would have placed you in a position that would force you to try to do something. You couldn't have done anything about it. Discussing it with her would only have made her feel that she won the war between us. I wasn't about to let her get to me. Besides I..." he trailed off, at a loss as to what to say next.  
  
"What you mean to say is that you felt that you would be a bother by asking for help and thus would risk exposing your pain or any of your other pent up emotions. Is it not?" Dumbledore translated, "Of course, my excellent plan for that year of avoiding you probably didn't help to sway your decision, did it?"  
  
Startled, Harry looked up into the softly shimmering blue eyes. They seemed to see right through him like Moody's magical eye.  
  
Harry said nothing, but looked away knowing that it was no good trying to lie or deny the Headmaster whose penetrating gaze was fixed on the sixteen- year-old boy, who squirmed a little.  
  
His hand was squeezed gently.  
  
"There is nothing wrong with needing or asking for help, Harry. Pride is a great thing but can be a very a hindrance at times."  
  
Harry nodded toward the other side of the room. The wood of the chair that the Headmaster was sitting in beside his bed scrapped against the wood floor for a moment. Two fingers were gently lifting Harry's chin over to face the Dumbledore. He looked into the blue eyes of a standing Albus Dumbledore who sat down onto the edge of Harry's bed. They stared at each other for a moment silently agreeing that the situation could not be changed now. What had been done had been done.  
  
"You can always come to me, Harry," his Grandfather whispered strongly. "Now, moving on. I believe there is a rather large sack of letters that belong to you. They are currently downstairs, but someone will bring them up to you later on for you to read. They have all been briefly examined for hexes, curses, portkeys, and bubotuber puss."  
  
That was odd. Harry asked, "Why is there a sack full of letters for me?"  
  
"Well, I have not read any of them but I think that after the article in the Quibbler and the Daily Prophet, the wizarding world may have had another change in heart to you therefore, I believe it to be _fan mail_." Dumbledore said smiling at him, his eyes sparkling brightly.  
  
"Fan Mail?"  
  
Dumbledore nodded his head, smiling brightly. "Oh, yes. Hagrid's birthday gift to you should be there as well. I offered to deliver it to you personally but he claimed it was tradition to send it by owl."  
  
After a few seconds he spoke again, changing the subject. "Harry, there are a few more matters at hand that we should discuss. Firstly, the reading of Sirius's will has been postponed until Poppy deems you well. I feel you it would be best to wait. After all, it would be rather hard to read it with everyone gathered in your bedroom."  
  
Harry quickly agreed with the man. He would have liked to never read Sirius's will but it seemed inevitable.  
  
"Also, I presume that you are aware of a strange occurrence that has to do with your appearance..."  
  
Harry visible gulped. In a normal situation, Harry would have played dumb by claiming he knew nothing. This, however, was Albus Dumbledore. Perhaps the best way to go about it was to yet again offer no information. Usually the Headmaster already knew but would pretend he didn't.  
  
"I believe that in order for you to completely understand this, I shall explain what has gone on after you left dinner on the night of your birthday.  
  
"As we now know, you forced yourself to eat despite the pain your ulcer was causing you. It made you sick. When you excused yourself from the table, Alastor Moody watched you with his magical eye. I believe that he thought it possible that you could have been an imposter under the influence of polyjuice potion, as you were acting oddly and it had been an almost hour since you would have been alone to drink it. He mentioned to me after you were retrieved from Privet Drive that you appeared different but no differences were noticeable. Be Alastor," which Harry took to mean that he was once again being paranoid, "he tried to look past any glammorie charms and found that your appearance was genuine. It puzzled him. When he saw you run to the bathroom and get sick, it added to his confusion but he knew then that you were indeed yourself. This did not ease his mind, nor mine when I heard his account.  
  
"Of course, Alastor only spoke aloud that you were in the bathroom and were physically sick. Remus immediately hurried to your side. By the time I got there you were unconscious in his arms.  
  
"I had the foresight to send Alastor to fetch Poppy from Hogwarts. When they arrived on the scene, Remus and I had just placed you onto your bed. Poppy, of course, shooed us from the room in order to assess the damage and the extent of your injuries. When she had finished, she allowed only Remus and Molly to look after you, as Alastor and myself were having our discussion at the time, while she and Severus flooed back to Hogwarts to obtain the potions needed. A rather large batch of dreamless sleep, and the nutrient potion; Educatio were made as well as a cure for nausea and a strong stomach-sealing potion.  
  
"You are aware that you did not take any of those until you had awoken. It wasn't till just before you then that Poppy returned with them. She explained to Remus, Minerva, Molly, and myself what exactly you were suffering from. I think you undoubtedly know the list so I will spare you. I have a suspicion that Poppy will tell them to you anyway, the next time she sees you."  
  
At that, Dumbledore smiled at bit before continuing. "When I left the room after you had awoken, Poppy was waiting to have a private word with me. She was very concerned at how nobody had known that you were sick. If you've looked in a mirror you'll know how visible it is now. She had known that I had a private word with you the night before your birthday. Astonished, she was that I hadn't caught the shadows under your eyes or the paleness of your skin. Though, when we talked, you exhibited none of those aspects. I found it odd that while you were conscious you appeared fine but when you were sleeping your illness became apparent. It began making sense, when I put what Poppy had said together with Alastor's statement. What Poppy said next was what helped me come to figure out the answer, as disturbing as it was.  
  
"Poppy, as you well know, has tended to your injuries many times. She has seen almost all of you, as any nurse or healer would have to in order to mend your aliments. Therefore, she noticed that you were sporting a few new scars. I am not referring to the back of your hand, but rather to your back and wrist. She did not show me, nor have I looked. Poppy was rather distressed about where the scars came from. She did nothing to them but look them over and disinfect them. I promised her I would look into them for her."  
  
The secrets Harry had kept under lock and key were now being threatened. He had no way out. He could refuse or answer with the truth. Lying was no good at all. Quickly his brain wrapped around a plan.  
  
"I don't want to talk about it, sir."  
  
_ 'Yeah, like that plan will work!'_

To Harry, the plan of avoiding that particular conversation by saying he didn't want to discuss it was very much like Dudley trying to hide behind Aunt Petunia the day that he had met Hagrid.

Silence followed in abundance. A bead of sweat trickled down Harry's temple as he nervously fought the urge to jump up and run. The grip on his hand now regained it strength.  
  
"Harry..." for the first time, Albus Dumbledore's voice held a stern hint of warning when directed at Harry.  
  
He swallowed, hard and broke eye contact.  
  
A sigh was heard from Dumbledore, who adapted his usual soft patient voice.  
  
"Please, Harry. Don't try and pretend that all is well. You can confide in me. I realize that last year is not in helping my case, but I beg you to please forgive me. That was a very foolish mistake to make. I regret it very much. Whatever happened to cause those scars I can already guess at. You've been covering them up with your metamorphmagus skills that I admit, I did not suspect you had. The fact that you are hiding them proves that you do not want anyone to know about them. I insist that I know how they came to be there. I strive to make your life as safe and as enjoyable for you as possible and that someone was able to inflict those types of scars on you proves that I have failed you."  
  
At that, Harry snapped his head up to meet his Grandfather's. For the second time, Harry watched as a crystalline tear danced down Dumbledore's cheek and weaved in and out of the silver haired maze on his chin. He hadn't really thought of it like that before. Dumbledore failed? Impossible! Harry was still alive, if a bit worse for the wear. He had been so focused on hating Privet Drive, the Dursley's, and endeavoring to avoid sympathy and pity for it at all costs that he didn't even really notice that he had been harmed in the one place that he was supposed to be safe. All he had known was that the people that Dumbledore claimed to be his only relatives and to be the only one's with the ability to keep him safe, had not treated him as well as they could. For lying about his only having Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and Dudley as relatives, he could and would not forgive. The hurt that had sprouted from knowing that his Grandparent's did not want him nor did they respect him enough to tell him that to his face, but rather lie about it, was too strong. As for the rest of 'Dumbledore's sins and failings'...  
  
Harry nodded knowing that the other man would know that it was a sign of forgiveness though he knew not that Harry was still harboring ill thoughts for a crime that he wasn't supposed to even be aware of.  
  
"My Uncle...he wasn't pleased that I had waken the household with one of my nightmares. He woke me up in a...very brutal way."  
  
A second tear joined the first one in the silvery maze. The old man's grip was shockingly strong for a man of his age.  
  
Harry refused to say anymore about it. He couldn't decide whether he was more embarrassed at having it known that he had had a nightmare that severe or that he had been whipped.  
  
"I truly am sorry for your having to be in that position, Harry. I understand that you wish to say no more so I only ask you to grant an answer to this one last question. Has anything like this happened before?"  
  
As if on automatic, Harry blurted out a loud, firm, "NO!" before visions of his cousin beating him up, Vernon cuffing him upside the head as he walked past in the hall, and Aunt Petunia slapping his cheek when he was six came to mind. He hadn't lied, exactly.  
  
"Yes. Maybe. I've never been abused."  
  
_ 'Omission is still deceitful,'_ Harry thought, _'That was like something Dumbledore would do. Lies of omission are worse than outright lies. They leave the person no room to suspect treachery.'  
_  
"I guess you could say I've been struck before, but never in a series or in repetition," Harry answered; in his attempt to avoid treating Dumbledore as he had he had acted towards himself.  
  
Dumbledore nodded his head gravely. "It seems something will have to be done about that. I-"  
  
Harry cut him off. "Sir, you placed me there for a reason. I don't like it there but I realize how crucial it is for me to be safe. I can take another summer there. I don't think that Uncle Vernon will behave any worse." After saying that, he mumbled to himself, "...or any better."  
  
The Headmaster said nothing but smiled at him slowly making Harry sure that he had a plan forming, despite Harry's statement, as he spoke again, "So, you have been altering your appearance, Harry? That would mean that you are consciously aware of you metamorphmagic abilities. I am sure there is a great story behind that, if you don't mind?"  
  
Already having decided that his main priority was to protect his wandless abilities, Harry thought explaining about his being a metamorphmagi would be a way of making Dumbledore less suspicious. That is, if he didn't already know.  
  
"Well, I was just kind of looking into the mirror and I wondered what I'd look like with my hair longer. You know, to cover up my scar. Then I realized it was longer! I thought I'd used accidental magic so I waited for an owl but when it didn't come I considered the fact that I could be a metamorphmagi. I concentrated and...it happened. I sort of experimented till I got the hang of it."  
  
The twinkling from Dumbledore's eyes were so bright enough that Harry wondered if they were charmed to do that.  
  
"You have an very useful gift, Harry. With a bit of practice, you could use it to your advantage. Other than hiding scars from me."  
  
To Harry's surprise, his Grandfather was wearing a smile.  
  
"I admit, I am curious as to what all of your looks that you changed on a daily basis."  
  
Reluctantly, Harry answered him truthfully. "That scar, the shadows under my eyes, my paleness, and my..."  
  
"You tweaked your appearance to make your body seem as it did before this summer?"  
  
Harry gave him an odd, curious look.  
  
"Poppy also said that you had gained a fair bit of muscle. That must have aided in the stripping of your body's nutrients. I believe I only have one more question. What of the scar on your wrist?"  
  
Harry gulped. "It's not what it looks like. That's why I hid it. I just didn't want anyone to think that I was..."  
  
"Harboring thoughts and emotions dark enough to make you attempt the taking of your own life?"  
  
"Yes. It was an accident of my own design," Harry said looking the Headmaster straight into the eye.  
  
Dumbledore considered Harry's answer for a moment. He then nodded his head at Harry and stood up.  
  
"Well, I believe I have said all I needed to. Poppy gave you strict orders to stay in this bed for at least a week-"  
  
"A WEEK!"  
  
"-so that your body can get used to eating and sleeping properly while you heal. Remus will be up soon with your breakfast and potions. He was quite worried about you. He nearly went ill himself with concern..." Dumbledore winked at him.  
  
"Sir? Can I ask a favor?"  
  
"Most certainly, dear boy."  
  
"Would you please write to your friend with the Chocolate Frog people. If you insist that I allow them to sell my card I want all the information on it correct. C-Cedric and I tied for the cup. I-It's just not right to say I won it all alone."  
  
"Of course, Harry."  
  
They looked at each other for a moment. Though the conversation ended on a lighter note, Harry felt slightly worried at having told his Grandfather many of the things he had. Most specifically, of Uncle Vernon's rude wake up call. His Headmaster was smiling a cheery smile that made it appear to be taking up much of the man's energy. Harry gave his hand a squeeze.  
  
Startled, the man looked down to see that he was holding the hand of the boy. For a fleeting second, Harry thought he saw a blush, that made Harry wonder if he had only just realized that he had been holding Harry's hand for the entire conversation, creep up into the cheeks of the old man's wizened face, who squeezed his hand never-the-less back and walked to the door hastily.  
  
When his hand was resting on the doorknob shaped like a serpent head, he spoke softly over his shoulder, "I will keep your secrets sacred, Harry. I promise."  
  
And with that, Albus Dumbledore quietly shut the door behind him, leaving Harry with his thoughts. 


	18. A Secret Revealed

**Disclaimer: J.K. owns it all**

** When Nightmares Are A Good Thing**

Chapter 18: A Secret Revealed

"Good morning, Harry!"

With a start, Harry's head jerked toward the door to see Remus Lupin standing there with a tray full of phials.

"Morning," he replied.

Silently Remus began handing Harry his potions in the correct order. Harry swallowed each in one go and tried to school his face into one that did not show just how disgusting the tastes actually were.

Remus chuckled lightly when Harry drank the nutrient potion and, yet again, was unable to keep his mask in place.

"That bad?"

" 's worse than anything I've ever tasted before and that includes Skelegro and the Polyjuice potion," Harry sputtered.

"When did you take Polyjuice?!"

Harry had the grace to blush in embarrassment when he realized he had let that information slip.

"Oh, err, it was in second year."

"Second year?"

"Yeah. We brewed it in Moaning Myrtle's lavatory so that he could take the appearance of some of Malfoy's cronies to interrogate him about the heir of Slytherin and the Chamber of Secrets."

The look on Remus's face was part shock part eagerness. It seemed that he wanted to chastise Harry for breaking that many rules and what not, but his curiosity won out.

"How did you manage that? The Polyjuice potion is one of the most difficult, most complex potions ever! I doubt half the Order could make it properly," Remus questioned.

"Well, most of it was Hermione to tell the truth. She's the brain; Ron and me did what she said while contributing freely once in a while. " admitted Harry.

"Well, it seems you are better at breaking rules and causing mischief than I previously thought," smiled Remus.

"Only when there's a purpose behind it that I believe in."

"Like getting pissed?"

"What?!"

"I know that you obtained alcohol at one point this summer. Drinking it with a stomach ulcer was probably one the most foolish things you could have done, Harry." There was a pause in which the amber eyed man let loose a sigh before continuing. "I'm not going to lecture you because that would be rather rich of me as I was once in the exact same place save that I didn't have a gap in my stomach lining at the time."

Harry managed a sheepish grin. "I didn't allow myself to get completely drunk. I mean-"

"It's alright, I'll let you off the hook just this once. I am, however, curious as to how the alcohol came to be in your possession in the first place..."

Harry nodded his head as he sat up on his bed further. The chair Dumbledore had occupied not long before was still there next to his bedside. Something the Headmaster said echoed in his head.

"He was quite worried about you. He nearly went ill himself with concern..."

"Um...Remus?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

"Whatever for?"

"Dumbledore said that you were concerned about me. So... thanks."

Once again, Harry found himself in tight embrace that he submitted to almost instantly. It seemed that Harry was becoming comfortable with physical reinforcement these days.

"Harry you don't have to thank me for caring about you! I would do it not matter what. I am really sorry though that I never let you know it sooner. I should have told you exactly who I was from the get go, back in your third year instead of keeping you at arms length. I really am sorry about that."

To say that Harry was surprised at the apology would an understatement. He hadn't expected Remus to feel sorry about anything. It was true that Harry had often wondered why Remus had hid behind that wall of security but he had never held it against the man. Harry just figured that it was too painful for Remus to be around a James look alike, for that's what he was.

"It's no big deal, Moony." Harry muttered against the man's shoulder. These hugs that were being bestowed upon him as of late were like an addictive medicine to Harry, who squeezed Remus closer for a moment before releasing him.

It was quiet for a few seconds before Remus asked, "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

Harry knew exactly what he was asking so he did not ask for an elaboration. Remus wanted to know why he hid his sickness.

"I didn't want to be a bother. Also, I hate pity."

Remus nodded his head to say that he accepted Harry's answer.

"You do know that you'll never be a bother to me, don't you? I would actually like it if, instead of hiding things, you were to tell someone so that it doesn't get this bad. That is unless you really are looking for ways for Poppy to visit you..."

Harry grinned widely. "I knew when I said it, she'd be embarrassed enough to forget the question she asked me but I had no clue that it fluster her so much!"

"It was a stroke of pure genius. "

The two of them sat together enjoying the lull in the conversation for a few moments. The mutual satisfaction was broken when Remus said, "You know this used to be Sirius's room when he was a kid?" whilst looking around the room.

With a gulp Harry replied, "I assumed it, yes. I do wonder how he got his parents to agree to the color scheme."

Remus gave a hearty chuckle. "They didn't. During the Christmas break of his first year; Sirius changed the color from green and silver to red and gold along with a really strong curse jinx so that the color couldn't be changed. They didn't even notice till the middle of his fifth year. Needed something from his room while he was away and went ballistic when they saw. Sent a howler not five minuets later. They weren't exactly the best parents in the world. To never even look in on your child when they've been in their room for a long time... It's no wonder he was able to run away so easily." Remus finished with a cavillous look towards Sirius's room.

"Well Harry, I think I shall leave you alone so that you can change your pajamas. I'll send Ron and Hermione up to see you."

After picking up the empty phials, Remus headed to the door.

"Thanks, Moony."

"Anytime Harry."

"What in the world are those?!" Harry exclaimed.

"Well mate, this is a burlap sack that happens to be chock full of fan mail!" Ron said brightly.

A large brown sack made of itchy looking material was slung over one of Ron's broad shoulders. Ron strode over to the chair seated next to Harry and dropped the sack roughly into the chair. A few yellowish brown parchments spilled through the top to litter the floor. Harry could count at least fifteen letters on the floor. A feeling of misery overcame Harry as he realized that the amount of letter spilled was only one percent of the entire sack.

A sound in the hallway caught Harry's attention. Hermione appeared in the doorway dragging a sack almost identical to the one Ron had carried in. An enormous sigh rose up in his chest as he noticed that Hermione's sack was just as big.

"And that?" Harry asked, warily pointing to Ginny's hands in false hope of distracting himself.

"Oh, well Mum sent up breakfast for you," Ginny explained.

"BREAKFAST!" Harry shouted in horror, "That's not breakfast! That's a feast for the entirety of Hogwarts!"

Ron started sniggering as he could, no doubt, eat all of the servings that Ginny was carrying and still have room left. Ginny smiled at his indignation but Hermione did not find it funny at all.

"Really, Harry, you're being a bit dramatic, don't you think?"

A glare at Hermione stalled anymore voiced thoughts on his melodramatics.

"I can't eat all of that!" said Harry, who was now slightly panicky. After eating practically nothing for the past month, his stomach was clenching at the thought of actually eating something.

Never the less, Ginny placed the food like mountain in his lap before sitting on the bed, facing him.

Ginny smiled. "You'd best get started, Harry. Mum made me promise to force-feed you if you refused.

That was all the motivation that Harry needed. Fork in hand; he slowly began his working his way through the double portions of bangers, pancakes, eggs and toast.

After three bites a loud sigh came from Hermione, who had moved the sack of letters and settled herself in Harry's desk chair, that Harry interpreted as her annoyance at his slow food poking eating style.

"Look, I'm eating the most I can. My appetite isn't what it used to be, alright."

Nothing was said and Harry pointedly ignored her look of pity while trying to eat some more of his humongous meal without getting sick again. His stomach did not seem queasy in the least, just extremely full.

"That's all I can eat," he said finally, throwing his napkin down on the tray next to his plate.

Ron looked at the remnants of Harry's breakfast with a raised eyebrow. It seemed that he would have liked to comment on how much of the mountain was still actually in tact, but did not in fear of peeving his friend.

"So!" breathed Ginny in an attempt at a fresh change of topic.

Ron grinned at him from the bit of wall he was leaning against. When Harry gave him a look of confusion, Ron jerked his thump at the two bags full of mail. A groan escaped Harry's throat as he thought of the types of letters the burlap material most likely contained.

"Aww, come on Harry! It's not going to be _that_ bad," Hermione reasoned.

Harry snorted. "Easy for you to say. None of you three have the experience of helping Lockhart with his mail." Remembering all the middle aged witches who wrote to that git; Harry shuddered to think of the types of letters _he_ was likely to receive.

"I'll make you a deal, Ron." Said Harry with a sudden solution. "I'll pay you a galleon an hour to sort through those letters and throw out the rubbish."

Harry knew it was a chance, mentioning pay around Ron as he was very sensitive where gold was concerned, but he was desperate enough to take the risk of enraging Ron if it meant that Harry himself would be spared the torture of reading parchment after perfumed parchment from hags who adored him saying they believed him about Voldemort all along.

"Make it two and I'll do it."

Harry looked at Ron and surprise. "You want two galleons! Just to read a bunch of rubbish for me?" he asked hoping Ron didn't call him on his false indignation.

"Well, yeah. Unless you'd rather do it yourself."

The raven haired boy took a deep breath and looked away from Ron, trying hard to look as if it pained him to think about giving his best mate two galleons an hour to read his disgusting fan mail.

"All right," Harry said in a reluctant voice, while ignoring the gleeful look that took over Ron's face, who no doubt thought that he was getting the best end of the deal.

Watching from the bed, it was very amusing to see his red-haired friend untie the twine from the sack closest to him and pull out a wad of parchment to get started on.

"What all do want me to do? Read them all?"

"No, just the ones that are anonymous or from someone I don't know. If the sender is a friend or something, leave it for me to open. You can automatically place any letters that go on about how I'm a right little hero in the rubbish pile. If there are any interesting letters that come from someone unknown to me, then you can put it in my "read pile". I'll trust your judgment on that one."

Ron was able to read exactly three parchments before he began roaring with laughter at the fourth sparkling pink, perfume scented love letter, which he promptly placed in it's own pile claiming that Harry just had to read it himself.

Hermione gave Harry a questioning look when he said nothing about Ron's judgment on the letters he _had_ to read.

"I trust him, Mione. If it's that funny to him, I think I'll manage a small laugh. Why? Are you jealous of his job? I'll pay you two to help him out if you like."

"WHAT? ARE YOU NUTTERS?"

"NOOO THANK YOU!"

"All right, I was just offering," Harry grinned.

Harry climbed off his bed.

"Where do you think you're going?" Hermione bossed.

A flush faded in and out of Harry smooth cheeks.

"The err little boy's room. Want to join me, Herms?"

Hermione stammered an embarrassed "No."

When the Harry returned to his room, he found Ron's rubbish pile had increased tremendously. Reading the scowl on Ron's face as he determined the letter he was currently reading as rubbish, Harry decided to attempt offering Ron a bonus when all of his post had been sorted through.

Ginny and Hermione were now seated on Harry's bed with their heads together. Both were examining Harry with two very powerful looks of calculation.

"Fess up."

"I beg your pardon?" Harry couldn't understand what it was that he was supposed to admit to. There were a hundred things weaving in and out of his head, each only surfacing briefly before swirling into a new one.

"Tell us how you did it."

"Did what, exactly?"

A sigh came from Hermione. "How you hid the changes in your appearance."

Harry moaned, "Oh, that."

Ginny's eyes rolled dramatically as she mocked his answer by saying, "Yes, _that_."

"It's... complicated. Only Dumbledore knows," Harry said hastening to add, "so far."

Ron had looked up from his "job" to give Harry's answer his full attention.

When none of his friends offered to let him keep his secret, Harry stated, "I'm a metamorphmagus," in an indifferent voice.

The result was a gasp from Ginny in surprise, the widening of Hermione's eyes in sudden understanding, and the narrowing of Ron's eyes, who Harry had been hoping would be able to keep his patience.

"How did you find out?" Hermione asked curiously.

So Harry spent a few minuets telling them about how he made the discovery and of how he altered his skin color and a few other details about his body.

"-but I think I'm a really weak metamorphmagus. I can't do anything outrageous like Tonks, just the normal stuff like hair length, hair growth speed, skin paleness..."

"Wow," Ron breathed.

All in all, Harry was very proud of his best mate. Not once had he claimed Harry to have everything nor had he shown any signs of jealousy. Yet.

"So you can adjust the length of your hair and color of your skin as long as you opt to change it to one of your own natural tones?" Hermione asked. She obviously had to know everything about it from Harry that she could.

"Yes," Harry answered. "Sometimes I can coax my features to shift a bit, but they never change enough to look _completely_ different. I tried to make my hair turn colors like Tonks, but I couldn't. I can only get it to lighten up a bit."

"Ohh, show us!" Ginny squealed with excitement.

"Alright," Harry agreed.

He concentrated very hard, closing his eyes and visualizing what his hair would look like if it were red and about two inches shorter than it currently was. When opened his eyes he saw Ginny, Hermione, and Ron, who had now taken a seat on the bed along with the girls, had left their mouths open in an abandoned manner.

Curious at what was so amazing, Harry carefully stood up and walked over to the full-length mirror in the corner of his room. His hair was now the same length as Ron's, but had retained its same dark messiness but with a tint of red hue woven in.

Harry turned back around and shrugged his shoulders.

"What were you aiming for?"

"I was _trying_ to mimic Ron's hair but..."

Laughter erupted from Hermione as Ron sputtered with indignation at Harry's poor imitation.

"Yeah, well if you're going to try and take on the Weasley's good look traits you'll need to ditch your 'I just rolled out of bed with someone else's girl' hair-do."

Hermione instantly sobered and shrieked, "RONALD WEASLEY!" in shock that he, her teenage best friend could possibly think it appropriate to tease someone else in such a crude way. Ginny, however, had rolled off the bed in a fit of giggles. Even Harry started to smile and laugh after his mock glare had no effect on Ron.

"Well, Harry, I think it is a wonderful talent and I promise to keep it under wraps if you want me to. I assume you did want it to be a secret as you weren't exactly making announcements and all." It seemed that Hermione had become impatient with waiting for the three of them to stop giggling and proceeded on to change the subject.

She understood. Hermione knew that being able to alter his appearance was a tool; a weapon, if kept secret from those who he intended on using it against.

"Yes, I do want to keep it a secret if you don't mind."

"Sure," Ginny agreed.

Ron merely snorted and nodded his head while making no further attempt to quell his overlapping mirth from the joke he had made earlier.

"If you feel well enough Harry, I think we all ought to head downstairs for lunch," suggested Ginny.

Ron's suddenly looked as if he remembered something important while he rubbed his stomach. "That sounds like good idea."

Hermione rolled her eyes in a way that made Harry suspect that she wasn't really annoyed at his fetish with eating.

"I'll even take some letters with me to sort through while I eat. I didn't quite get a full hour in before be started talking."

With that, the group of four teenagers made their way down the creepy hallway of Grimmauld place with the kitchen in mind.


	19. Fan Mail Answered

**Disclaimer: J.K. owns it all**

**When Nightmares Are A Good Thing **

****

**Chapter 19: Fan Mail Answered**

When the four teenagers reached the basement kitchen, Mrs. Weasley had just finished placing lunch on the table and was settling down into a seat. When she saw Harry, however, she leapt up and began fussing over his state of health, much to Harry's chagrin.

It took nearly five minutes for Harry to assure her that he had taken his potions earlier and was feeling fine. By the time Harry was seated, Ron had already polished off his first sandwich.

"You do look much better, Harry," Tonks commented in between bites.

"Yeah, mate. Somehow talking to the three of us helped rid you of the shadows under your eyes," Ron stated in a voice that held a hint of a warning to remind Harry that he'd forgotten and left his face morphed into a normal appearance.

"Hmmm, guess we'll just have to talk to you more often then," Harry said before anyone else could raise questions on the subject.

Remus raised an eyebrow in Harry's direction but said nothing.

A laugh, coming from Ron's mouth that was full of food, demanded the table's attention and started up the _real_ lunch conversation for that day.

"Ron, who are all those letters from?" Mrs. Weasley asked curiously, having seen the pile next to her youngest son.

Seeing that Ron was having enough problems trying to stop laughing long enough to chew his food, Harry answered for him.

"They're mine, Mrs. Weasley-"

"Molly" corrected Molly.

"Riight. Well, I talked Ron into scanning through all of my overdue mail. He is supposed to be filtering out the nonsense rather than having himself a good laugh at my expense," Harry finished with a glare at his best friend who was still chuckling.

"Sorry, mate. I accidentally mistook that last letter as a love note from some anonymous witch. Wasn't though."

Harry gave him a nervous look of foreboding. "If it wasn't an anonymous love note, what was it?" This wasn't the sort of thing Harry wished to be speaking of in front of the others but his apprehension was flowing too strong for him to care.

"Oh it's a love note alright! It's just not anonymous," Ron smirked.

"W-what?" Harry reached across the table as quickly as he could to snatch the parchment from beside Ron's plate.

Harry felt his stomach drop all the way to his knees, similar to the way a paper grocer's bag would bust when if its contents weighed too much. Cho Chang had written to him. Not only had she written a letter to him, but also it was on parchment that Harry now realized he could smell a good three feet away. To stall, for time before he would have to read what she wrote, Harry looked up at Hermione.

"Why would she be writing to _me_? I mean, I thought I mucked everything up with her," Harry asked while endeavoring to strain the desperateness out of his voice. He didn't even bothering to include Ron in his question. Truth be told, Harry was becoming a bit annoyed that he had to read such a troublesome letter as the one that he now held, grasped in his fist and held away from his body, and all Ron could do was laugh and smirk. It wasn't likely that Ron would be able to answer his inquiry anyway.

"I suppose you'll have to read it find out, now won't you." Hermione eyed the letter intriguingly.

With much trepidation, Harry pulled the parchment towards himself and lowered his eyes.

_Dear Harry,_

_I want to apologize for my behavior towards you last year. I can't believe I acted the way I did. I hope you can forgive me. I suppose I don't really deserve it but I know that you're a nice guy who will hear me out in the least._

_I can't really tell you what I was thinking last year, as I don't know myself. How anyone could feel badly around you is beyond me. Somehow, I felt guilty for being happy with you. I didn't know what to think. I had liked you first. Who wouldn't like you? You have the most brilliant eyes that I have ever seen and your hair is really cute not to mention your gentlemanly behavior even during quidditch. That's when I started to really like you, you know. I even wanted for you to ask me to the Yule Ball. When the Ball was only a few days away I decided that I was thinking wishful thoughts. So, when Cedric asked me to the Ball later that Day, I accepted. I wanted to move on instead of dwelling on something that would never happen. I could have kicked myself for telling Cedric 'Yes' when you DID ask me to go with you. I felt very divided in my own mind. _

_Still, I liked you first and last. I should not have been so jealous of Hermione. It was pointed out to me that you must have given the interview for that Quibbler article after leaving Madame Puddifoot's with me. I don't exactly know why I was so quick to jump the lake when I heard you were meeting with her. I'll admit it was good that you did. Never waste an opportunity to undermine Umbridge. _

_Anyway, I'm sorry for the way I was acting and I hope you'll find it in you to please forgive me. I'd like to pick up where we left off but I'll understand if you don't._

_Yours,_

_Cho Chang_

Harry stared at the parchment before looking up at Ron in bewilderment.

Ron continued laughing out loud in short spurts. "W-what's she wa-want?"

"Apparently, she wants to get back together with me. Hermione? I have a question for you," Harry asked suddenly, continuing without waiting for an answer. "I know I'm a guy so I'm going to run this by you because I simply don't understand how we could "get back together" when we were never "together" to begin with. Did she just forget that she blew up on me _before_ we could get that far?"

Hermione, it seemed was doing her best to be as sympathetically polite to Harry as she could, though it was clear that she would really have liked to laugh along with Ron.

"I don't know Harry. Maybe she didn't realize that crying all over you for a year doesn't officially count. I think you ought to write her back and set her straight. It's really not fair to allow her to continue thinking that you were together, let alone think that she might have a another chance. I'll bet anything she wants back in your good graces now that you're officially not a liar nor crazy anymore," Hermione stated in her classroom explanatory manner.

_'Great,' _thought Harry. _'Just what I need; some fame hungry girl chasing after me for my money.'_

Remus cleared his throat loudly. "Would this happen to be Cho Chang of Ravenclaw?"

"Fhwats fhur!" said enthusiastically, mouth full yet again.

The gathered group looked oddly at Ron who's face burned as he swallowed his bite of food in order to clearly repeat, "That's her!"

"Well, I suppose I ought to get a start on reading and replying to some these letters," Harry said. "Ron, where did you put the rest of the readable letters?"

Harry had just finished reading all of his letters for the day when a knock on the door broke the silence.

"Come in."

The door gave a creak as it revealed the tan skin of Hermione's face.

"I know you probably want to write your reply yourself, but I thought I might be able to help," Hermione said.

Harry smiled at his best friend. "Sure. I just finished it. I wrote it as politely and clearly as I could make myself."

He stood up from his desk chair and walked over to Hermione. She took the letter and sat down on the edge of Harry's bed to read.

_Cho,_

_To be honest, I did not expect to hear from you. I am glad that you were finally able to see that Hermione and I are nothing but good friends._

I'm not really sure what to say to you, but we do need to get a few things straight. We are not and were not together. Although, at one point, there was nothing I would have liked more. I understand why you were upset so much. I would have been too, but there are some pretty good reasons as to why I didn't want to discuss Cedric's death with you. As much as you needed the closure, talking or even thinking about it is really hard for me. You shouldn't have tried to force me into reliving those memories before I was ready and willing.

_I suppose I first realized that I had feelings for you in my third year. You were pretty and good at quidditch. All throughout the year you were nothing less than polite to me, before and after Cedric asked you out. You didn't even know me, really. And yet, you still supported me by not taking a stand against me. Odd isn't it? That I write how thankful I am because a person of who knew nothing about me didn't cast unsupported judgments against me. What's the world coming to? My point is that you were always nice to me when the entire school hated me. It shows a lot about your true character. You're a good person, Cho, don't doubt it._

_However, I don't think that we're right for each other. I could elaborate but you really do feel the way about me that you wrote, it wouldn't do any good, would it? I just don't feel like our personalities mesh. Trust me, you'll find a guy who's so much better than me. Don't settle for second best, Cho. Wait until you've found the one you want._

_I know this probably sounds clichéd, but I hope we can still be friends. Real friends who trust each other and are able to laugh and speak to each other without loads of tension and jealousy. _

_As for the last fight that we had... I don't blame you for Marietta's actions. That has nothing to do with us. I do think you ought to be more cautious. Real friends are trustworthy. What she did was not right. It put the lives and futures of the entire D.A. in jeopardy. Believe me when I say I know a thing or too about endangering the lives of people close to you. I take responsibilities for any of my mistakes and accept all of my blame. Does Marietta? I should not have allowed us to be caught. If I had been a better leader I would have devised a better plan for us. But, like I said we all make mistakes. I apologize for mine and promise to try harder in the future. That's really all I can do. The past is the past and it affects the future in ways that we allow it to. _

_Perhaps I will see you on the train, if not I will see you when we get to school._

_Your Friend,_

_Harry Potter_

When Hermione looked up there was pride in her eyes.

"That was beautifully written, Harry. You were polite and worded yourself very clearly. I'm sure she'll understand."

The letter was handed back to Harry who rolled it up and tied it to Hedwig's waiting leg. He opened the window and watched her fly out. For a few minutes he simply gazed at the sunset until he realized that Hermione was staring at him from her position on his bed.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Nothing. It's just... I didn't realize you felt that way. I didn't know you could..."

"Figure out my feelings without you explaining it to me?" Harry grinned.

Hermione gave a small nod and smiled sheepishly up at Harry, who laughed as he turned back to face the sunset.

"It took me a little while, but I figured it out. I am capable of thinking. Ron, however..." Harry joked.

The two best friends shared a laugh.

Hermione cleared her throat, which caused Harry to sigh and turn back around. He took a seat across from his female best friend on his own bed. It didn't take a genius to know that Hermione had something serious to say, and when it came to Hermione, serious usually meant a long discussion.

She must have known that Harry was aware of what was to come, as she started in on the area under discussion immediately.

"Harry, I know you are hiding some- many things from me. I've known you long enough to pick up on when you are keeping a secret. I normally don't say anything because I generally assume that your secrets have to do with rule breaking. This time, I'm certain that's not the case.

"While I don't think it's a good idea to allow you to bottle it all up, I think it's an even worse idea to force you to talk about it. I tried that tactic with you more than once. I just hope that you are able figure out that you're not alone and that talking sometimes helps. If you want to talk or if you need someone, I'm here for you Harry. So is Ron, Ginny, Remus, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Fred, George, Tonks, Kingsley, Professor McGonagall, Professor Dumbledore, Ha-"

Harry held up his hand "I get the idea 'Mione. It's not really something I _can_ tell. "

"Just don't let it eat away at you. You're only human, Harry. I know you wish you were made of steel-"

"I don't"

"What?"

"Wish I were made of steel," Harry elaborated sporting a small smile. "If I was all metal how would I be able to play quidditch?"

A voice in the back of Harry's chided himself for thinking that he would even be allowed to play, or fly even, ever again. Hermione must not have remembered his ban, because she merely shook her head and said, "Boys! Always thinking about quidditch."

Hermione reached over and pulled Harry into a hug.

"Seriously, though. I'm here if you need me Harry."

"I know. It's just...well, parts of it are so confusing. I haven't even been Able to figure out what _I _think about... well, you know."

Hermione smiled at his genuine reply. "Come on, then. Mrs. Weasley probably has dinner all ready.

"Don't you mean Molly?" Harry joked as he followed Hermione downstairs.


	20. A Serious Will

**Disclaimer: J.K. owns it all**

**When Nightmares Are A Good Thing **

**Chapter 20: A Serious Will**

A few days went by in Grimmauld Place without much content. As they passed, Harry's health seemed to improve enough that he was allowed to go about his day normally, albeit he still had to take a nutrient potion with every humongous meal that he was forced to eat. Harry also realized that during the course of his "illness" he had shied away from his exercises. He slowly had to work at building himself back up again without anyone catching him. Though his well-being was no longer grave or worrying, Molly and Remus especially made it clear that they were still concerned about his physical condition as well as his mental psyche.

Throughout the past few days, Ron had continued to work his way through half of the first sack while Harry had managed to read and even reply to some of the more intellectual letters in between reading a book he had found in the Black library on animagus transformations.

It had turned out to be a very informative piece of literature. Harry pretty much figured that he could most like master the transformations by Christmas. Problem was that he didn't want to do it alone. Even though he knew how dangerous they were, Harry felt that it wouldn't be right if he didn't cop Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Neville into.

Why Neville, Harry didn't know. He had been thinking that he wanted to include Ginny when he suddenly felt the urge to share it with Neville. The more he thought about it the more he came to think that his subconscious was trying to get closer to Neville after hearing the prophesy. Harry also felt that it might give Neville a confidence boost, being able to change into an animal uniquely him. That and the fact that very few people in the world could do an animagus transformation properly let alone do it illegally.

The only problem was finding away around Hermione, the wet blanket. Hermione's logic was the one thing that kept Ron and Harry from following through with _all_ of their plans. True, it usually saved them from making some big mistakes but if they wanted to do this before Christmas Ron, Hermione, and Neville had to somehow read that book as well as the one that Fred and George had sent him without anyone else in the world knowing.

An opportunity presented itself exactly a week after Harry's birthday. Ron was diligently sorting through Harry's fan mail in the Black's library while Hermione helped Ginny work on her Defense Against the Dark Arts essay. Ron had tried to explain that they didn't _have_ to do the homework since they would be receiving a new teacher at the start of term. A look from Hermione banished the red head back to his work while mumbling something about doing his essay later.

Of course, it took Ginny only half an hour to finish it with help from "the brightest witch of her age". It was then that Harry seized his chance. He silently performed a spell to efficiently lock the doors as well as sound proof them.

When Hermione set down her quill with a satisfied nod, Ginny began rolling up the essay. Harry casually walked over to the bookshelf and began searching for the place he had positioned the two animagi books.

He paused with his fingertip on the spine of the first of the two. "Hermione?" Harry called over his shoulder.

"Hmm?" Hermione answered having already began reading a new book.

"Have you read this book before? It looks quite interesting." The raven-haired boy had to reframe from sniggering as Hermione instantly marked the page she was on and all but bolted over to him at the notion that he had found a book that she had not read.

She reached her own finger to trace along the spine before her face contorted into an expression that Harry thought to be a mixture of confusement and curiosity.

"No, I don't believe I have. Actually I know I haven't or I would have made you and Ron read it as well."

This time Harry was the one confused. He had been sure that Hermione would not be suggesting the very thing that he was.

"You mean you also think we should…"

"Yes, if you mean we should learn how to be animagi. It would be an incredible asset to possess, don't you think?"

Harry sputtered while trying to regain his senses.

"So… I take it you were expecting to have to dupe me into this?" Hermione smiled evilly.

"Well, yeah! I mean you _are_ talking about learning to become _illegal_ animagi, aren't you?"

"Well we certainly aren't going to register with the ministry." Hermione actually spat the word "ministry" out as if were something foul for a moment Harry was strongly reminded of Snape and the way he said the word "Potter".

After a moment of looking at each other, Harry finally said, "So I can count you in?"

The smile she gave was all he needed to know. They were shaking hands when Harry noticed that Ginny and Ron had made their way over to the couple out of curiosity.

"What about you, Ron, Ginny? Can I count you two in?"

Ron's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "In on what, exactly?"

"Becoming illegal animagi," Hermione grinned.

Ginny's accidentally squealed in excitement as Ron gaped at the their female best friend.

"Harry are you sure this is Hermione? I mean what if she got replaced by a deatheater or something?"

Hermione laughed, Harry even smiled at the thought of a deatheater taking Hermione's place so that they could urge Harry and Ron _not_ to do their homework as a plan of Voldemort's.

It ended up being agreed that Hermione would read the book, as she was the quickest out of the three that still needed to read it. Ron would read it next because he feared he might lose interest in reading if he had to wait on Ginny to read the book as well.

After dinner that night, Harry went directly to his room looking for a bit of privacy that he had been denied as of late what with everyone and their hippogriff checking in on his health every few seconds.

In his room Harry perused yet another book on hexes and curses that he had found in the Black's library. It proved to be nothing more than a list of spells stating their incantation, wand movement, and properties. Harry used a duplication spell on the book to make himself a copy before placing the original book on his dresser so that he could remember to return it to the library, hopefully unnoticed. If nobody knew he was studying spells excessively no one could possibly guess that he was also practicing magic.

Next he looked over his books that included apparation and port keys. The portkey spell was easy enough to understand and say but it required great concentration. Harry took a piece of balled up parchment and thought about his bedroom in Privet Drive. He focused very hard on the settings and details of his room while saying the incantation, "Portus". He was about to test it but decided that he'd better wait to learn to apparate first. Portkeys to Harry were still a bit uncomfortable to use, especially and experimental one that could take him somewhere he didn't know or couldn't escape from. Fear crept inside Harry as he thought of the situation he would be in if he accidentally portkeyed himself right underneath Voldemort's nose. Of course, after some more thinking, it would be the same situation with apparating. No one would know where he had gone if he couldn't apparate or portkey his way back.

Realization that he would have to tell someone about his secret of practicing wandless magic was not pleasant. He obviously was not about to tell Snape, McGonagall, Dumbledore, or the Weasley. The best choice seemed to Fred and George but Harry was reluctant to rely on them so much. Bill and Charlie were in the Order so Harry felt it would be placing them in the middle of a loyalty test, as was the same with Tonks. The adults simply wouldn't allow it. The only probable solution was to tell Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.

His first thought on that was to keep it a secret, but then Harry realized (thanks to a pang of guilt) that that was exactly what Dumbledore had done to himself… kept secrets. Perhaps, when the time was right he'd let them in on everything. They probably would not understand how he felt or what he had to do but…They still deserved to know just as he had way back when he had asked Dumbledore in first year. If only Sirius were here, he would understand. He had been very empathetic when Harry had told him about his vision of Mr. Weasley.

With a sigh Harry dropped to his floor with caution to do his sit ups and push-ups. It was surprising just how unfit he had become from a week of being ill.

Sleep came when Harry's head hit the pillow. However, sometime in the early morning a dream overtook Harry as if he were in some sort of a virtual reality game. Swirling colors died down as soon as he "landed". Immediately the boy looked around at his new surroundings to find them vaguely familiar. White surrounded him in a flurry of expansiveness. A figure was approaching him from his left. Harry swiveled around to see whom it was and was somewhat surprised to find that it was his Godfather.

In a backwards daze of déjà vu, Sirius whispered, "Harry?"

"Sirius?"

Neither of them said much of anything for a while. Both just stared at the other, not really believing that the other was real.

Finally Harry threw his hands up in the air having come to a frustrating conclusion.

"Alright, I _know _you are a figment of my imagination but why are you just standing here acting like you don't know me. Shouldn't you yell at me and be angry for how I got you killed?"

The Sirius that was in front of him sputtered in indignation as if he couldn't believe what Harry had said.

"What do you mean, 'figment of your imagination'? I'm the _real_ one. Aren't you something that _I_ dreamed?"

Another moment of staring ensued. Finally Sirius spoke out loud.

"If you think your dreaming and so do I, is it possible that we're both dreaming?"

Harry shook his head and backed away ever so slightly. "N-no. It's not possible. Y-yoou're dead! I mean, you can't be dreaming with me right, are you?"

Whether Sirius was indeed dreaming himself into Harry's dream or not, he never got to find out. Just as Sirius was opening his mouth in reply, Harry was shook awake by Remus.

"Harry, are you okay? You were tossing a bit?"

Harry nodded that he was okay and sat up in bed, squinting his eyes against the evidence of morning. The dream was still as fresh in his mind as his remaining questions. What had happened? Was it real or was he only dreaming something that he subconsciously wanted?

Remus accepted Harry's answer with little doubt as the werewolf stood up from his sitting position on the edge of Harry's bed.

"Go ahead and get dressed for breakfast. Dumbledore said he needed everyone to gather after dinner for… Sirius's will.

A large knot formed in Harry's throat that he couldn't quiet swallow down. Icy hot tentacles seemed to reach out and wrap tight around his neck, teasing him with the sensation of almost being strangled to death.

"Fine," Harry managed to choke out, sounding far from normal but close enough that Remus only gave him an apprehensive look before nodding his head once and exiting his room.

The messy haired boy took his time in stretching and exercising before performing a cleaning spell on himself.

Clothes choice proved to be more difficult today as he was unsure what would be appropriate. Harry pulled on a pair of his khaki trousers, belt, and boots. Watching the color of the belt morph was very amusing to Harry.

'_The thing's that amuse my poor mind!'_

The shirt color was the hard part. Anything in a bright hue seemed to be a horrible thing to wear to the will reading of his parent's best friend. All dark would make him appear to be depressed and would draw attention to his sadness. He surely was not up to hours of what he privately referred to as "Molly sitting" since that's what he had to do. Whenever she was trying to comfort him, he always ended up either trying to stay away from her mollycoddling or tried to cheer her up by proving just how "fine he was".

Eventually he decided that one of his charcoal gray t-shirts would be fine because he paired it khaki colored pants. He ran his hands through his hair in an automatic way of combing it, leaving it possibly messier than ever before.

The breakfast table was full of the entire household and the arrived order members despite the fact that it was very early indeed. Ron, who was barely awake, was still able to push his fork around and hold it up to his face- eating plenty of extra helpings but a slower pace than ever before.

Not much was said as they all chewed on. Even though it was earlier, between Mrs. Weasley and Remus, Harry's nutrient potion was not forgotten. Though, this time, Harry could not manage to take it without making a face.

Shortly after came the arrival of Albus Dumbledore with Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape in tow. Who only smiled softly at the constructive teasing that Harry was currently receiving over the expression that he had made only moments before.

"Well, I believe that we should now go over Mr. Black's will so that our Ministry workers can be off to work!"

Harry stood to help Molly, Remus, Tonks, Ginny and Hermione clear the breakfast remains from the table.

Dumbledore began far to soon for Harry likings. After conjuring up a comfortable chair to sit in- an exact replica of the one he had created during Harry's hearing- he sat down and set a beautiful wooden box down at the head of the table.

The box was made out of a dark red-colored wood with intricate designs and what looked like ancient runes. Harry, who was "coincidentally" in the seat nearest to the head of the table on Dumbledore's right side.

"We are here to read the unofficial last will and testimony of Sirius Black. As always, the Order of the Phoenix allows its members to create their last wishes to be acted upon after their death." Dumbledore spoke clearly in his whisper-like voice that captivated everyone present.

Slowly Dumbledore turned the box around so that everyone at the table a considerably better view of what was inside. On top were about a dozen pieces of parchment. Dumbledore unfolded the first. He glanced at Harry over the top before passing it on to him.

Nervously, Harry looked down to see that it was a letter addressed to him from his Godfather. Harry's eye flicked up across the table to see Remus receive one as well as Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred and George, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Tonks, McGonagall, Dumbledore and even Snape. After they were all distributed there were only two parchments left. In a silent agreement, those who had received a personal letter began to read.

Harry unfolded his letter and did the same.

_Dear Harry, 7/22/95_

_I suppose this is a letter to say goodbye. Dumbledore has reinstated the Order of the Phoenix so I whether it is by his order or mine; I have decided to write you a letter._

_I'm not really sure what to say. It has almost been a month since Voldemort's rebirth and almost a month since I last saw you. Right now you're at the Dursley's being treated who knows how bad… Since this letter will only be read after my death I don't mind sharing virtually everything. _

_I was scared, Harry. Really, truly, deeply, and sincerely scared when things went wrong in that maze. I nearly went insane watching from Hagrid's cabin while you worked your way to the center of it. I knew. I had a bad feeling before you even entered the maze. I also felt it on Halloween, 1981. You survived, though. They say you're good at that, hence the phrase "The-Boy-Who-Lived". I don't know what I'd do if you **weren't** the Boy-Who-Lived. You've kept me sane in more ways than you can ever imagine. Not a day went by in Azkaban when I didn't think of you and long to take care of you. I lived on with false hope that someday the Ministry would realize their mistake and set me free with a full pardon so that I could give you what Voldemort took away._

_I guess I should have known better. Besides, I did finally get to see you. Like I said earlier, you're at the Dursley's but I count the days till Dumbledore gives in and let's you come to where I'm at._

_This is probably the part where I provide some valuable advice that will help you learn to live a better life… Well, seeing as I am fresh out of **good** advice, I'll just share a few facts that I haven't yet told you at this point in time. You might actually know some of it by the time I die but right now, in the summer of 1995, you don't and I would regret kicking the bucket without leaving some of these things for you to find out. _

_First off, there is a prophecy made about you and Voldemort. I do not know all of it but I know some. Harry… you've been fated against that son of ---_

Harry suppressed a laugh as he read over the last sentence and found a word had been censored out of it. Even though the word was blurry Harry had a pretty good idea what it was underneath the haze.

_. Anyway, Dumbledore knows it all but won't tell you. He's afraid that you'll be weighed down by it. If you ask me, I think you could have handled it in your first year although I didn't know you then nor was Voldemort rebirthed… I guess that's what Moony calls a moot point? _

_Don't let it get you down. We all have a fate as well as a destiny; yours just seems a little extravagant. In reality, there is most likely someone out there who has it just as bad. The only difference is that your role is obvious and a conscious one at that. Wouldn't it be great if you didn't have to know about things you had to do but could just do them without being any the wiser? I suppose this is rather rich coming from me, the Marauder, to Harry, the taker downer of Voldemort but I feel that even though I never had a prophecy made about me, I had a role. I went to Azkaban for eleven undeserving years. I stood up for my friends and gave the best protection I could. I failed, yes, but I tried. Oh Harry did I try! But I failed and now I live everyday with the guilt of getting two of my best friends murdered. What's more is you have to live with consequences of my actions. I never should have suggested using Peter, that rat!… I'm diverging from the topic, aren't I._

_The next thing I should say is that, if I've croaked, I don't want any sappy depressing thoughts. I want a good honest to Merlin prank performed in my honor and I want it to be pulled of on the toughest person at Hogwarts to prank… Dumbledore or McGonagall. Albus is the hardest person to prank, Harry. He doesn't embarrass and he takes all the fun out of the prank by enjoying it even if you **did** pull it off correctly. McGonagall always gets angry when you get her. The madder she is the better the prank. If you can't manage one of those (though I suspect you can as you're the son of James, the pupil of Remus, and the godson of the best marauder of all, me!) you could always use Snape or Filch. Go for Snape only if you're certain he can't trace it back to you. I don't want you to get any unnecessary detentions because that would give him all the mickey. Pranks are a good stress reliever, Harry. Trust me. I'd know. _

_On to a much lighter note, you're bound to marry a redhead. No, honestly! James did! So did your Grandfather. Potter men seem to like the fire. I don't get how or why but there's something about them that attracts the Potters. So, if you've noticed any certain young ladies with red hair, make sure you give it your full consideration. I had a girl at one point in my life Harry. I didn't pay as much attention to her as I should. I liked her well enough but I was too worried about my reputation to do or say anything. I wanted to play it cool. I suppose I played cool for far to long because before I knew it… Don't let that happen to you Harry. Love is something that you truly can't live without. You might be alive, but you can't **live** without it. _

_Don't morn for me. I'm either pulling pranks with James and getting slapped for it by Lily, or I'm watching over you. This I solemnly swear to you. I made a wizard's pact before you were even born that I would love and protect you will all of me that I possess. I've tried hard, I really have. I might not have succeeded but I've strived so hard. I hope you and James can understand that. It's not good enough, I know but maybe it is._

_Harry, I'm so proud of you that I don't even know how to write it. Everything you do just screams James and Lily, yet you're you. I may tell you a hundred times that you look just like James or that you have your mother's eyes but there's something about you that sets you apart from everything else. You have the biggest heart of anyone I know. You're so giving and selfless. Harry you inspire me to be better than I am. I used to think only Moony could make me feel like that when he pointed out something I'd done wrong. Every time I look at you I feel like if I were better then maybe you could have it easier or maybe be happier. I guess I wouldn't be me if that were true but still I wonder how I could improve. I feel like I have since I met you. When I saw you anything and everything I had became yours at your birth, even my heart. I love you, Harry. I know I haven't told you this yet but I intend to in the future. I don't know why I haven't said anything yet. I guess I'm afraid of your reaction. I don't want to replace James's place in the world. Nobody could ever do that, not even you. I just want to be there for you. I suppose I can't now that I'm dead but…at the moment I do and I will in the after life. Just know that I love you, Harry and not because you're the boy who loved. Not because I'm James's best friend but because of who you are. _

_When James and Lily told me that you were going to be born, I was excited. The best news was that I would get to be your Godfather. I remember being so excited when I heard the news. I was going to be someone special in you life. That honor went to me. I was, and still am, so proud to be able to say that I'm Harry Potter's Godfather. Yes, of course you'd have to be nutters not to be. You being famous and all most people would be proud just to simply say they've shook your hand but… not me. Maybe I'm selfish but that's just not enough for me._

_When I was a child, my parents never really loved me. Sure they took care and they provided but never loved. I always had what I needed and even what I wanted but I never had attention. I used that to my advantage by playing jokes and pranks. From the best I can tell, you know exactly how I feel. I never wanted so badly when I was a child to be held and loved as much I wish now to be able to hold and love YOU! I suppose if you're reading this I'm dead so that's not much but a hollow yearning that will never be able to do for you. _

_Well, I suppose that's all I need to tell you at this point in my life. Since I'm apparently dead I want you to know that I don't want any morning. I would never wish what I went through after James and Lily's deaths on anyone. If you start to be happy don't stop simply because you think it would be a bad thing to do after I've died. Instead, make sure you laugh a little more heartily for me._

_I love you, Harry. _

_For Always and Beyond,_

_Padfoot, A.K.A. Sirius Orion Black_

Harry looked up from the letter to see that everyone else except for him and Remus had been finished with their letters for some time. The letter addressed to the Order members had even been passed around to all and read by all. There seemed to be a tense silence coursing through the air, as the room's occupants were unsure as to the appropriate action to take.

The letter had touched Harry deep inside. It was almost as if Sirius had known what Harry needed to hear. He couldn't help but wonder if the letters that he had written in the case of his death would be as helpful.

Dumbledore interrupted any thought that Harry was about to have by clearing his throat. Everyone looked to the head of the table in anticipation of what came next.

"Ah, well, since we are all ready I shall continue on to read the actual will…"

"**I, Sirius Orion Black, of a somewhat sound mind and a delightfully firm body do hereby declare my last will and testament."**

Dumbledore paused in the reading for a moment to allow slight chuckle that occurred before continuing.

"**All of my possessions are to be distributed as claimed below and my last wishes are most certainly to be fulfilled on the account that I'm an awesome guy and everyone will miss me so much that they'll all be hopping around to grant my dying wish. Wait, scratch that. If you're reading this then I'm already dead…. The same theory applies though, right? Assuming that I didn't get to make sure my last wishes were fulfilled _before_ I kicked the bucket. Whatever the case, I want them fulfilled!"**

Once again, Dumbledore paused for the room to laugh at the casual yet hilarious way that Sirius wrote his will. Strangely enough, the letter seemed to reek of Sirius's style. Every word that Dumbledore read, Harry could just picture Sirius himself saying it down to the expressions he would have on his face.

"**My vault is to be divided according: One fourth of the monies are to be to Harry James Potter. Another fourth is to be given to Remus Jonathan Lupin. The second fourth is to be divided evenly between Molly and Arthur Weasley and Nymphadora Tonks while the last fourth of the monies in my vault shall be divided into sixteenths. Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, and the twins; Gred and Forge Weasley shall each receive one of these sixteenths. Anything in the vaults that is not money is left for Remus to decide what to do with."**

Everyone laughed gaily at "Gred and Forge" while shifting in their seats. Molly and Arthur Weasley were holding onto each tightly after hearing that they were left money, which from Harry assessment of Sirius's house, was most likely a lot of money.

"**The possessions that I specifically state are to be given to the person listed. Anything trivial, not listed, or is something that I could care less about, is to be given either Harry or Remus, whomever wants it. It makes no difference to me if it's not listed in this will. **

**Grimmauld Place is to be possessed in a co-ownership by Remus Lupin and Harry Potter. The deed to my parent's getaway house in Ireland (I honestly know nothing about it except that I own whatever and wherever it is) I leave to Moony. My flat in London I leave to my Godson, Harry however I caution him that everything in it has been there since I "moved on to Azkaban". All of my personal belongings belong to Harry although I think Remus is welcome to request certain items from Harry should he feel the need to. My journal and my flying motorcycle, should it still exist, is to be given to Harry. The motorcycle is only to be given once he has purchased a helmet to wear while riding it." **

"Honestly!" Mrs. Weasley interrupted. "Giving a dangerous flying bicycle to a child who doesn't even know how to operate it! As if a helmet will keep poor Harry safe!"

Harry fought the urge to remind Mrs. Weasley that he was not a child. Dumbledore merely smiled as if he and Harry had shared a thought and continued.

"**And lastly, my most prized and important possession. I want it understood that this is my final and most important request… or would this be a wish? No, it's a request cause I'm dead. Right, on to business. Harry James Potter is to be given to Remus Lupin as far as all God fatherly aspects go. I know the law won't allow it in any way but in private life, if anything, Remus is now (now as in when you read the word "now" that I wrote before these parenthesis) Harry's Godfather. If I can't be there for Harry then I know for sure that Remus (should he still live by the time that this letter is read…or by the time I die) will take care of Harry for me. Harry, I also know that you'll take care of Moony for me, right? Thanks, kiddo. **

**Seriously,**

**Sirius Orion Black**

**P.S. On the case that I'm dead, can I cash in on a second last wish? There's a question that's been bugging me since I was a first year that I wish to be answered. Could someone figure out for me if pumpkin juice with ice is iced pumpkin juice or is it merely pumpkin juice with ice? Make sure you guys figure it out 'cause James and I will be waiting for an answer the next time I see you!**

**P.P.S. Should anyone else that I've named in my will be unable to collect I leave it up to Remus, Harry and/or Dumbledore to decide what to do with whatever I left them.**

Not much else was said after that. Some matters were discussed but Harry didn't really feel like hearing. He sat there at the table for an appropriate amount of time before silently getting up and slipping out the door to head up to his room for some privacy and with the intension of destruction proofing his letter.

Apparently his leave was noticed. Harry was allowed almost thirty minutes alone in his/Sirius's room to think before Ron, Hermione and Ginny showed up. After Harry answered the door and saw his friends on the threshold, saying nothing and nor asking for anything, Harry knew it was time. He had to tell his friends about the prophecy. The more he thought about it the more he felt like he was keeping a secret from them. If one of their deaths had been foreseen and _they _kept it from him all the way until they died, he would be very upset indeed. It was now or never, although never was very tempting.

With one last look down the hallway, Harry opened the door as wide as it would go in invitation. The three teens took no hesitation in stepping inside and finding a place to sit or lounge about in Harry's room.

Harry took a deep breath as he shut the door. He turned around to see his friend's looking at him as if simply waiting for him to say whatever it was that they knew he would say. Wordlessly and wandlessly, Harry cast a locking and silencing wards around his bedroom. When he was certain they were secure he added a warning ward to both ends of the hallway to signify when someone was coming near his room.

Hermione's mouth formed a wide 'O' while Ron and Ginny gasped at the realization that Harry had cast wandless magic. The time was now. Harry would tell his friends about the prophecy regarding himself and the thing that called himself the Dark Lord.


	21. The Price of Tomorrow

**Disclaimer: J.K. owns it all**

**When Nightmares Are A Good Thing **

**Chapter 21: The Price of Tomorrow**

Harry looked his friends in the eye while considering the best approach.

"What's going on, mate?" Ron asked, awe from Harry's previous magic trick still present in his voice.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. "Wandless magic is nearly impossible! It's _extremely_ rare!"

Ginny reached over and placed a hand over Hermione's mouth, causing the bushy-haired girl to give an undignified sputter of indignation.

He cast Ginny a thankful look before he turned to his trunk, deciding on his coarse of action, taking out the remaining supplies from Fred and George. Ron took in the bottle's identity with yet even more shock, when Harry set them down ion his desktop.

Taking a deep breath, Harry said, "I've been keeping a few secrets from you guys that you've got the right to know.

"No, really?" Ginny asked sarcastically. She smiled at Harry before rolling her eyes. Harry couldn't help but be glad that she was lightening the mood.

Hermione harrumphed when Ginny took her hand away t examine the bottles Harry had set down, along with Ron.

Ignoring the smiles both Weasleys were wearing, Harry took a seat in his desk chair.

_'Here in a few minutes the won't be smiling so much over a bit of alcohol.'_ Harry thought to himself.

Without a further thought, Harry closed his eyes and concentrated on transfiguring the air in front of him into four shot glasses.

Hermione hurried over to inspect Harry's work.

"This is really good conjuration! How did you get so good? Before you've always been…well, rubbish at charms and transfiguration. How did you figure out that you could do wandless magic? And what about –"

"Hermione! Would you PLEASE let Harry tell _his_ way? He'll tell us when he's ready, in his own way rather than just answering all of your questions."

That statement from Ron was just the reassurance that Harry needed to help him decide to go through with his plan.

Ron eagerly accepted the drink of Vodka that Harry offered him. Ginny took hers as well. Hermione, however, gave Harry a reprimanding look, as if she wanted to say something. Instead, she wrapped a very tense hand around her glass and stared at it angrily.

Harry was certain she was only upset that Ron had pointed out how wrong she had been to start spouting of questions. Harry had never thought of Hermione as a spoiled brat- cause after seeing the epitome of spoiled, Dudley, the rest of the world seemed like darling angels, but things within the three of them was usually based on Hermione's brains. Harry would get in trouble, Hermione would figure it out (having known all along that Harry was indeed in trouble) and Ron would fall in line. Things had been that way for sometime, only, as of late, things were changing. Harry was keeping secrets that Hermione had not suspected, Ron had matured, and Ginny was slowly becoming a regular.

A mental sigh heaved it's way though Harry mind as he knew that he would now have yet another thing he needed to discuss with his friends.

"Look, Hermione, I know you don't approve of alcohol as we're under aged, but you need to trust me on this. I have some shocking things t tell you. You're going to want that drink, if not now, then _after_ I finish talking."

The three nodded their heads in agreement and each took a seat; Ron on the end of Harry's bed, leaning against one of the end posts. Hermione sat perched on one of the long sides of the bed, while Ginny took up a seat closest to Harry by sitting in front of him with her back leaning against the mattress and box springs.

Harry hastily suggested, "You might be cautious of the Vodka. It's a muggle drink that has one of the strongest alcohol percentage known. A first it kinda burns a little on the way down," before Ron could chug it.

The warning was served only as that. When Harry finished speaking, Ron lifted his glass to his lips and swallowed the contents, most likely aiming to prove how manly he was. The look on his face was enough to cause Harry and Ginny to erupt with laughter. Hermione cracked a grin and subconsciously held her own glass further away from her body.

"He did warn you," Ginny said as she downed her shot. While Ron's face was scrunched up, Ginny's showed no trace of evidence that she had just consumed a potent shot of alcohol.

"How were you able drink that!" Ron sputtered. "Merlin, that stuff burns!"

Harry responded by knocking back his glass and then refilling their empty glasses with another round. Ron's expression seemed to be frozen in place; his nose wrinkled, his mouth tightened into a sort of frown that one makes when eating something sour. It was too much for Harry to resist poking fun at.

"If you'd rather have something not so strong, I think I can mix it with a gallon or two of pumpkin juice for you."

Ron simply glared at him before showing the room the bottom of his glass. Ginny shook her head as Ron had, yet again, made a face at the taste.

"Watch and learn, big brother."

By the fifth round, Harry could feel the effects beginning to have an influence on him. He glanced over at Hermione, who was glowering at the three drinking the alcohol.

With a deep breath, Harry began to tell his friends his inner most secrets.

"I won't tell you everything I'm hiding, but I will tell you most of it. I've got to sort though… _that one_ on my own first.

"As close friends of The-Boy-Who-Lived there are certain things about my life that you should know, reasons as to why I am in danger which in turn puts you and your families at risk as well.

"My first secret is probably the biggest and most pressing one you're likely to ever hear," here Harry paused to look around. Hermione seemed much keener on listening to the conversation now that Harry was about to reveal the answer to the questions she had been bursting with earlier on.

He swallowed his sixth shot and continued on with his preamble leading up to something that would likely break his friends hearts. He only hoped that it didn't break their spirit as well.

"You all know that my parents were aware that Voldemort was after them, right?"

Ron nodded blankly saying, "Yeah, you told us that. We've known that since third year."

"Well have you ever wondered _why_ Voldemort was after them, or _how_ they knew to hide?"

This time Hermione spoke up, the first time since Ron had silenced her earlier.

"Yes, but I've not found anything when I researched it in the school library."

Harry shook his head. "No. You wouldn't, would you? I've been curious about it ever since I learned what really happened to my parents. I even asked Dumbledore about it in my first year. He told me that he couldn't answer, but turns out that he could but _wouldn't_ tell me. I wondered about it until a few months ago hen he finally gave me the answer."

Hermione scooted out even further on the edge of his bed. Ron set his glass down on Harry's trunk while Ginny straightened up off of he leaning post.

"When I got back from the Department of Mysteries Dumbledore locked me in his office. He sat me down and told me that," here Harry looked away from his friend's faces. He took a deep breath. "The reason Voldemort was after my parents was because he intended to kill _me_. Before I was born, a prophecy was made. It was made by Professor Trelawny, actually, when Dumbledore was conducting a job interview with her at in a private room at the Hog's Head. The only problem was that the first part of the prophecy was overheard by an eavesdropper."

Hermione let out a small gasp as she began putting together some of the jigsaw pieces.

Thankfully, the eavesdropper didn't hear all of it, but just enough to scamper back to their his master and inform Voldemort of it."

Ginny stood up slowly and walked over to where Harry sat. She placed a comforting hand on his forearm.

"What did it say, Harry?" she whispered softly, asking for but not demanding an answer.

Harry looked up at Ginny as he spoke, the words of the prophecy flowing off of his tongue freely much like it did inside his head.

"_THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD APPROACHES…BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES…AND THE DARK LORD WILL MARK HIM AS HIS EQUAL, BUT HE WILL HAVE POWER THE DARK LORD KNOWS NOT… AND EITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHER FOR NEITHER CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES…THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD WILL BE BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES…" _

Silence rang through the silent room as Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all processed the information that they had just been given. Ginny fell to her knees gently, eyes not leaving Harry's. Feeling for once as if he were the one who was well grounded rather than the vulnerable one, Harry reached for her hands, interlacing them with his own.

A chocking sound came from Hermione. Like many other times in his life, Harry was unsure of what to do.

"Does that mean…you?" Ron asked, his voice completely devoid of humor. In fact, the only other time Harry could ever remember Ron being this deadly serious, this sincere, was in their first year when he had explained to Harry why he had to sacrifice himself in the chess match.

"Yes, it does." Harry said. He looked away from Ginny's moistening eyes. He couldn't cry. There were too many rules and reasons why he couldn't, though he was getting dangerously close. _"'BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES…' _That could have applied to two children. Neville Longbottom and I both had parents in the Order who had defied him three times. Neville and I were both born at the end of July."

A loud clunking sound next to his ear demanded his attention. Hermione had apparently stood up from the bed and slammed her empty shot glass down on Harry's desk, her eyes begging for a refill. He gave her a lopsided grin, despite the circumstanced, as he complied.

"Okay," said Ron who was staring blankly at the wall opposite him.

Ginny whispered softly, "So the prophecy states that there was a child about to be born who would be able to defeat You-Know-Who?"

"Yes," Harry answered calmly.

"And then it says the child's parents are going to be in the Order?

Harry shook his head. "No, only that the child's parents would defy him three times."

"Right, like there's much difference…" Ron muttered darkly, tearing his eyes away from the wall in order to stare at the floor.

Hermione coughed and a hand flew to her throat after she set down her second empty shot.

Ginny shifted her knees a bit before saying, "Next it said that the prophecy child would be born at the end of July and that they would have power the Dark lord didn't know about…"

Again Harry let them know that their summery was correct, but did not add anything to it. He didn't want to push them to the conclusion faster than their brains would allow them to comprehend.

It was Hermione who summed up the rest of it, showing all the bravery Harry knew she possessed as she accepted the truth of the matter. The truth that Harry himself had taken most of the summer to face.

" '_EITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHER FOR NEITHER CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES'_…Harry, that means you kill Voldemort once and for all or he'll kill you!"

Harry nodded grimly at her, "Yes, Hermione. That's the gist of it all."

Numb was the only way Harry knew to describe what he was feeling as he watched his friends learn of his fateful impending death.

Tears trickled out the corners of Ginny's brown eyes. Harry attempted to keep from looking directly into her eyes, but she gently released one of his hands to reach up and hold his head in place so that he had no choice but to look at the salty droplets running down her cheeks.

A sob came from Hermione as she sank to the floor from her standing position.

What were you supposed to do in a situation like that? Harry couldn't help wondering if women were drawn to him when they needed to cry. He was saved from wondering what to do as he instantly found his arms full of his very own crying red head. It seemed that Ginny too was weeping so strongly that she had taken it upon herself seek the comfort that he was supposed to know to provide.

Though he now knew what to do, Harry still felt a bit unsure of himself. He caught sight of Hermione though Ginny's red hair. Ron, looking pale and quite sick to be frank, gave Harry a helpless look as he nodded in Hermione's direction. Harry raised his eyebrows at him. When Ron still didn't get the message, Harry tentatively placed his hands on either side of Ginny's surprisingly tiny waist. Whether Ron caught on or not, Harry didn't get to immediately find out. As soon as he had put his hand on Ginny's sides, she burrowed her face into the crook of his neck, tightening his arms about him. Red tint was all he could see as he sat there, arms around Ron's baby sister who was reaching up off of a kneeling position on the ground to hug him. The spot on his collar was Ginny's eyes were closely pressed was getting damper by the minute.

Out of all the knowledge Harry had accumulated and out of all the experience from his past adventures, he had nothing that helped him feel more secure in his current actions with the youngest Weasley.

He rubbed her back in an awkward fashion while letting her hug him securely in a very "Weasley" way. As sad as the situation was, Harry couldn't help but feel a hint of pleasure at seeing his friends so saddened by the news of the prophecy. Harry had expected some despondency from them, but it seemed he had underestimated just how upset the three of them would be.

Eventually Ginny's sobs lessened though she was obviously still leaking tears; the ever-growing wet spot against Harry's neck was evidence enough. She loosened her death hold on him but did not release him, staying pressed up against him with their arms around each other. Feeling a bit more at ease, Harry looked over at Hermione to see Ron having almost the same exact problem he had had moments ago. Hermione had taken to leaning against Ron, who had apparently sat down beside her on the floor. He was stiffly giving her was Harry was sure Ron thought were gentle pats on the back. Instead it rather looked as if Ron were whacking Hermione on the back as if to help rid her of an imaginary case of the hiccups.

Harry cleared his throat. He felt Ginny turn her face slightly upward so that she could gaze up at him a bit better.

"I know this is a lot to put on you but-"

Harry! This isn't about us. It's about you. Honestly!" Hermione sniffed. "You've got a prophecy predicting that only you can save the world from the most evil dark wizard ever known, and you're worried about how _we're_ doing."

After having said that, Hermione stood upward and joined Ginny in the hug

"I'm here for you, Harry. No matter what I'm going to be with you the whole way through."

Something in the way Hermione had said her last sentence had triggered a button on Harry's conscience. He backed away from both girls shaking his head.

"No. No, you can't. It's me, only me. My prophecy, my job. You'll be killed if you try to hang around me like that," Harry said firmly.

"Bloody hell, mate!" Ron snapped angrily as he stood from the floor and walked over to stand with Hermione and Ginny, who had placed her hands on her hips in a stiff stance indicating her temper was flaring up.

"You can't fight him alone. Remember our past adventures? You may have had the biggest most important part- the dirty work- but you didn't do it alone. I don't doubt that you _couldn't_ find a way to do it alone because I know you, but don't you DARE try and take away me and Hermione's right to make up our own minds in this thing. If I want to stand next to you while you fight to the death and get _myself_ killed… then it's my call. You've got choice and so do I!"

What Ron was saying made sense. If Ron, his best friend, were the prophecy boy and he were the best friend? Well, then he, Harry, would want to do everything possible to help his friend come out on top, wouldn't he? Dumbly, Harry only nodded while privately resolving to figure out some other way to keep Ron, Hermione, and Ginny from being so closely involved with his impending battle.

Hermione handed his shot glass, filled to the brim with clearish-liquid. The four teenagers gave each an important look before they all threw back their drinks in a silent but meaningful toast. Not sure as to what his three friends were toasting to, he was drinking with thoughts of his friends surviving the war.

"Look, I wish that was all I needed to explain but there's a little bit more to tell," Harry said.

Hermione grimaced as she set her tumbler down. "We're listening."

"Well," Harry began. "When I found out about the prophecy it was basically the end of the year. After I got off the train Remus, Moody, Tonks, and Mr. Weasley threatened the Dursleys into being a bit nicer towards me.

"While I was there I decided that I needed to learn more than I knew then so…"

He glanced over at Ron… "I owled the Twins with some money and a book list. They did me a favor by sending me the books as well as a few other items that I needed."

Ron said nothing about Harry asking his brothers for a favor but he did ask about what other items the Twins got for him.

"Well…I uh…needed some cigarettes-"

"What?" Hermione shrieked. Immediately she clapped her hands over her mouth.

"It's alright. I put up a silencing ward around the room. Anyways, I needed cigarettes because I was going to use them to make a trade with Dudley."

"You shouldn't give him tobacco products! They're bad for your health!" Hermione exclaimed, clearly scandalized by the idea of it all.

Harry held a hand up to stall any impending arguments.

" 'Mione, I totally agree with you. Cigarettes are disgusting in everyway but Dudley is becoming addicted to them. They were the only thing that I could think of that I could obtain that Dudley might possibly be swayed into the deal that I wanted to make.

"Before I bribed him into the deal, I had Fred and George cast some charms on them so that they weren't harmful. No smell, no further addicting nicotine, no tobacco stains… Basically Diddy Diddy Dum Dums is smoking nothing but paper that he thinks makes him look cool.

"The deal was he had to allow me in the tool shed once a day. Each week that I had use of the tool shed daily, I would supply him with a pack of cigarettes. It was worth it too. I actually miss the shed."

Harry continued on before anyone else could say anything in reply.

"I had Fred and George send me some books, which I've already read, and I began learning some new spells and hexes- you know, storing them away for later use. My original idea was to just say the spell and use a hand motion to practice saying it out loud and all but… well, to make a long story short I accidentally did wandless magic. At first I thought I'd be expelled but no owl came from the Ministry."

"Wonder why," Ron wondered aloud.

"Well," Hermione said thoughtfully. ""f the Ministry sent you an owl when Dobby used that hover charm inside the house it proved that they were able to know when magic was performed _inside_ the house. When you used your wand _outside_ the house they were able to detect your patronus charm. Perhaps there's something different about wandless magic that makes it indistinguishable."

"Like what? Obviously I didn't use a wand to do wandless magic. Maybe it's because without a wand they have no way of tracing it?" Harry suggested.

Hermione frowned. "That's plausible, but if it's true then why did they detect Dobby?"

"Better yet," Ginny chimed in. "Why did the Ministry think it was your spell?"

This caused a bout of silence as the four of them pondered what the answer could be. Eventually Hermione vowed to read a book about Ministry laws and methods as well as attempting to find some more literature on House Elves, this time the focus would be on their magical capacities and limitations to humans.

"So you can do wandless magic? That's really impressive," Ginny said with a small smile on her tear stained face.

"Yeah, well I… uhh have been using it ever since. Like I said, I've got loads of spells to show you guys when we get back to school."

"Well, in honor of allowing ourselves a night to be normal teenagers, I propose we have another drink." Ron said in mock imitation of proper formality.

"Now wait just a minute, Ron. Harry said he had secrets to tell us. I think you should wait until he's done before we go and make prats out of ourselves," Hermione chastised.

Ron's face flushed brightly but he nodded, looking to Harry in astonishing patience.

Thinking hard, Harry shook his head.

"No, that's okay. That's all I had to say anyway," he lied.

His relationship to Dumbledore and McGonagall was very confusion to him, so confusing in fact that he was unsure of what to say to his friends. Also, he would be rather embarrassed to tell his friends that his grandparents didn't love him enough as a baby to keep him and raise him up nor did they love him enough now to reveal their relations.

An hour later found the four of them collapsed on the floor together in a heap.

Ron laughed gaily and pointed at Hermione, lying on her back and tilting her head back to look at Harry upside-down.

"-but there's no wood!" Ron exclaimed in a girly voice whilst wringing his hands in mock worry.

Harry couldn't help but crack up, giggling incoherently at the memory.

Ginny, who hadn't yet been to Hogwarts for the trio's first year adventure (including the famous "Hermione-defeats-the Devil's-Snare-with-her-amazing-firewood" episode) laughed along with the boys despite the small fact that she had no clue as to what she was laughing at.

The girl in question had swallowed enough alcohol to keep her drunk till morning so it was no big shock when she cackled madly at the joke that was being poked at her.

"Yeah," she giggled. "Remember the time we almost got killed by the Devil's Snare?" She repeated, laughing uncontrollably at the joke she told, even though it was a different version of what Ron's said not seconds ago.

The smallest redhead added, "What about the time when we ate the library in the chocolate?"

Again, despite the fact that some of the four weren't physically present for that particular "remember when?", everyone laughed reminiscently, completely ignorant that Ginny's words had run together and some even wound up on opposite sides of the sentence. What she had said did not inspire thoughts of chocolate Easter eggs that Harry and Ginny had eaten in the library while they spoke about Harry contacting Sirius through the fire in Umbridge's office.

Harry was half-leaning on Ron, half-lying on the ground convulsing with a laughing fit. He quickly sat up, straighter than Hermione did when attempting to make her raised hand reach the professor's eye. The pleasant haze that had come with the alcohol dissipated as vigilance found it's way back into Harry's body.

"Guys, I think I ought to take you back to your rooms. Someone's just tripped the ward I cast on the stairs."

"Tripped?" Ron asked stupidly. "That's an odd word."

"Whatever," Harry muttered as he stood up.

The second ward was set off indicating that the broacher was one floor below them. For the first time ever, Harry was thankful that the Noble House of Black had hallways that took forever to walk through.

There wasn't much time left before whoever was coming up the steps caught up to them- Harry privately suspected it was Weasley. It just made the most sense. After dinner the three of them had disappeared not to be seen again. It was now dark outside so it made sense that Mrs. Weasley would come to see that the four of them were in their beds or at least in their rooms. The latter would be hard to do if three out of four couldn't even talk straight.

Walking them to their rooms was no longer an option anymore. Not only were Ron, Hermione, and Ginny's rooms located on the second floor along with the approaching person, but Harry's room was up on the third floor. A split-second decision was made. Harry grabbed hold of both Hermione and Ginny's upper arms. It would look very bad indeed if the two girls were caught inebriated, after dark, and in his bedroom along with Ron. Reputations were something that Harry understood well, though for far different reason.

Apperating, in theory, sounded simple enough; just concentrate very hard on where you want to go and imagine yourself magically being there. There was a pressing matter that required it so Harry hoped with all he possessed that nothing would go wrong in his first attempt.

Screwing up his face in concentration, Harry pictured the girl's room in his mind and envisioned him and the girls just being there.

With a 'pop!' ing sound, the three teens found themselves instantly inside Hermione and Ginny's bedroom. If he hadn't have still been bordering downright smashed, Harry would have been in shock that he had not only successfully apparated on the first try but he managed to take two passengers with him on the first attempt. Instead, he was marveling at the seamless way he had gone from standing in his own room to being one floor below in another room, instantly! POP! Just like that!

"Whoa!" Ginny exclaimed, bringing Harry out of his own thoughts.

Both Hermione and Ginny looked trashed. Their faces gave it all away. Neither one was in any condition to speak with whatever adult it might be approaching.

"Get in bed!" Harry hissed as both girls giggled at something invisible to Harry.

Impatient, Harry ripped back the covers on the respective beds and pushed each girl as gently as he could towards one. He yanked both duvets up to the their chins.

A footstep sounded in the hallway. Harry's stomach gave a lurch. Before he apparated out, he cast a silencing charm on the room in hopes that the adult would not step inside past the charm and hear the drunken giggles being produced.

The sight that met his eyes when he successfully apparated back into his bedroom was laughable, but Harry's heart was still threatening to pound right through his chest so he had little problem reframing.

Heaving Ron up by the arms was no small task as Ron was a very tall and healthy boy. It was an especially difficult task when said best friend half asleep and wanting nothing more than to stay sprawled against the ground.

Ron's mouth snapped closed as he squinted at Harry. The empty bottle Ron was clutching clattered to the floor with a loud clunk.

"C' mon, Ron-"

"Hey…th' rhymed!"

"Whoever it was will have already checked on Hermione and Ginny by now."

"Oh, well we're all outta booze so Mum'll have ta get 'er own!"

Harry snorted as he apparated them to Ron's room where he repeated the same precautions that he had taken at the girl's room.

"Go to sleep, Ron" Harry said when Ron was under his bedspread.

"Thanks, mate." Ron slurred back in a whispered kind of yawn. I'm sorry you're the one. You don't have to be the one if you don't want. You can be anyone you want."

Harry closed his eyes. "I know, Ron"

Finally Harry was back in his own room, hoping that neither Ron, Hermione, or Ginny got themselves caught drunk.

He vanished the evidence and cleaned the room with a scouring charm so that no alcohol, be it drops spilt or empty containers were left. It should have been easy to sleep but thoughts and events from the past few hours kept playing inside his head. Though he had told his friend's something horrible that would change their lives and not for the better, he had really enjoyed being with them. Of course everything came with a price and Harry was not looking for to paying for it with the headache he was sure to have tomorrow.


	22. The Tell Tale Parchment

Disclaimer: J.K. owns it all

**When Nightmares Are A Good Thing**

Chapter 22: The Tell Tale Parchment

Harry had never truly realized how much noise breakfast usually entailed until he had sat through it with a hang over.

The others had not yet ventured downstairs but he was hoping they would turn up soon as it was getting late and Molly was becoming suspicious.

So far none of the adults had actually worked out that the missing teens might still be intoxicated from the night before but Harry was sure that one complaint from Ron about a loss of appetite, a headache, or especially the noise level and the truth would be quickly unraveled. Harry had a plan and hoped it would work. He'd already tried to escape and go to Ron, Hermione, and Ginny but Mrs. Weasley had insisted that he sit down and eat a hearty breakfast, to his annoyance.

Mid morning rolled around in time for Hermione to enter the basement kitchen, just barely appearing to arrive at her normal daily time. Hastily, Harry shot her a quick look to warn her before performing a wandless cheering charm. The look on her face went from what could only be described as discomfort to relief. Although the cheering charm did not discard any of the hangover disorders, it would cause a person to happy about the pain, masking any of her real feelings.

"Morning," Hermione said as she sat down, as close as it was humanly possible to being cheerful with hangover.

"Alright?" Harry whispered in her ear under the pretense of leaning across her to reach the pitcher of pumpkin juice.

"What did you do?" she whispered back.

Harry rubbed his hand over his nose in a scratching motion to hide his mouth from the table's view. "Cheering charm. I didn't think you guys would be up to putting on a show so…."

"Thanks," Hermione said out loud as Harry handed her the glass of juice he'd been pouring for her.

"Whatever for?" smirked Harry.

She glared pointedly at him. "For the _juice_, Harry. Thank you."

"You're Welcome, 'Mione," he replied cheekily.

Ginny was the next to arrive. Harry nudged Hermione before he cast the cheering charm on Ginny. Beside him, he could tell that Hermione was stifling a giggle at Ginny's reaction.

The seat next to Hermione was open for Ginny to sit in. The same conversation that had transpired between Harry and Hermione was passed on to Ginny in hushed tones. A grin stayed on her face until Ron entered shortly after, looking very put out by having to appear alive.

_He_ wasn't as amused as Ginny was, but he did manage to whisper a "Thanks, mate!" to Harry in between a few uncharacteristically meager bites.

The rest of the day passed with the teens separating for some time alone. As hung over as they were, none were in the mood for quality time together. The contents of the prophecy were almost forgotten in the muddle of emotions they were consequently experiencing. Mrs. Weasley poked her head in Harry's room before lunch and, judging by her look of mild astonishment, she had expected to find Ron in there with him, perhaps slaughtering him at chess or thumbing through his latest quidditch magazine.

His time was not wasted, however. Harry found enough time throughout the day to practice apparating into the attic. The fifteenth time that he had managed it, he decided that he needed a challenge. Screwing up his face in concentration, he let his mind wander over possible candidates for his next act of apparation and then left with 'POP!'

The Shrieking Shack was just as he remembered it. In the corner of the room stood the bed that Ron had lain on after Sirius had drug him through the Whomping Willow and broke his leg. The dust on the floor was thicker in most places, almost completely filling in the spots where paw and feet prints had been just two years ago. The broken furniture was still in disarray, with bites out of the legs of the coffee tables and missing chunks of wood.

What had happened two years ago seemed so easy to fix, if he had just realized the first time that night that it was a full moon. Then maybe Wormtail would be locked away in Azkaban and Sirius would have been freed. At least he would be able to enjoy his liberation for two years until Harry got him killed, that is.

An onslaught of memories came flooding to the front of Harry's mind. He quickly thought of another place to apparate to in order to avoid the painful memories. Somewhere safe that he hadn't been to lately- to avoid other memories- where he could escape some of these feelings.

With a 'POP!' Harry instantly apparated.

The first thing that Harry noticed was that the lighting was better and the air held less dust. His eyes, which he had closed during his apparating, nearly popped out of his head when he saw an elegant sitting room around him. Gold curtains covered large windows and a comforting blue sofa sat perched in the very center of the room with two smaller couches on either side. Cream-colored accents highlighted the blue and gold furniture in the room making it look very warm and inviting.

A doorway connecting the sitting room to an unknown hallway attracted his attention. Through it he found an enormous dining room that would put even what Harry imagined the Malfoy Manor looked like to shame.

Dazzling white plates with curly gold decorations around the border lined the edge of a large antique looking wooden table. Shiny crystal goblets and sparkling silverware trimmed the well-set table, causing Harry to wonder if someone was about to sit down to a meal.

"Hello?" Harry called out, very curious as to where he was and why this place would feel safe to him. When nobody answered back Harry cautiously continued to explore, vaguely wondering whose house he was in while taking in the beauty of the home.

It seemed that the house had four or five floors but Harry was exactly sure. In every room that he entered he made sure to knock or to call out, receiving no answer in return. Stranger than a beautiful home having no occupants, there were no personal effects anywhere to be found. No food in the cupboard, no clothing the chests, no parchment and inkwells on the writing desk, and certainly no books or forms of other entertainment. Harry decided that maybe the owners had recently moved out or perhaps had yet to move in so, to test his idea, he resolved to make his last stop the attic where there might be some forgotten boxes or something.

Sure enough, as soon as Harry climbed the last rung of the ladder leading to the attic, he saw an old trunk, made of a soft looking brown wood with tarnished gold hinges. In the front center of the trunk the letters L.E. were etched into the wood in the same tarnished gold color as the latches and hinges.

Walking up to the trunk, Harry passed a hand over the letters. He took a deep breath then wrapped the lock up securely in his fist.

"Aloharmora," Harry whispered.

The lock sprang open and Harry let it clatter to the floor. He lifted the lid of the trunk, quite unconvinced that he was doing nothing wrong by being in and trespassing in someone else's house, forcing entry into a trunk simply because the initials on it matched his mother's.

Harry leaned over to peer over the top. Inside the trunk there were many books stacked tidily along one side of the trunk while the other half had several Hogwarts robes that looked to be small enough to fit a first or second year student,

Before he could even think about it, Harry had reached in and picked up the topmost book on the stack. On the inside of the cover the name "Lily Ann Evans," was written in a bubbly girly flourish. He traced his mother's handwriting for a moment, his breath caught in his lungs as he basked in the feeling of being so temporarily close to his mother.

The robes in the trunk had been hers. The books that were stacked up so neatly that even Hermione couldn't organize them any better, were his Mother's. She had worn the robes that he was looking at. His mother had read the book that he was holding. Harry felt compelled to pick one of the robes just to see if he could remember what she had smelled like. A very faint trail of what Harry thought to be jasmine was just barely detectable but as hard as he racked his mind, he could not remember it. The only thing that Harry _could_ remember of his mother were her last dying words, screamed out in panic, and the eerie green light that took her life.

As much as it pained him to do so, Harry carefully replaced the items before locking the trunk back up.

Had this been his mother's home? Harry had no idea but he was fairly certain it had been a wizarding house when lived in, judging by the set up and wealth of it all, which made no sense whatsoever. If it _had _been a wizard's home, then how had his Mum lived there? According to everyone who had known his mother, she was muggle born and muggle lived. Was it possible that this was also his father's home or perhaps Lily had been raised by her real parents and that bit about being muggle born was all some scam that everyone except for himself was in on? One thing was for sure; Harry was getting very bored with the lies and half-truths that he was constantly being fed. Harry wanted answers and he wanted them now.

Harry knew not where the house he was in was located but he felt like demanding to know why he hadn't known about it? And why was Dumbledore so intent on not letting Harry know about their relation?

Dinnertime rolled around not quite fast enough for Harry. The longer he had to wait in his room- the apparation back from the attic containing his mother's trunk had been easy- the more he paced and become angry. During his "alone time" Harry developed a plan to be put into action that very night to ensure speedy results.

The hangovers seemed to be slowly wearing off, but not as rapidly as the cheering charms, which had to be replaced before their true grumpiness broke through. It did strike Harry as odd that the alcohol hadn't affected him as much as the other three.

Ron was on his second helping, when Dumbledore arrived. Now, he decided, was the time to set his plan into motion.

"Professor?" Harry said, looking directly at Dumbledore, who was accepting a cup of tea.

Calmly he answered, "Yes, Harry?"

"I…erm…well, I had a question to ask you about my Aunt Petunia that I thought you might be able to answer for me." Harry said, purposely speaking to his plate to give an appearance of embarrassment and sincerity.

"Very well. I shall answer if I can." Dumbledore had steepeld his fingertips together while giving Harry a calculating look.

Harry suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Instead he took a breath, more to calm himself than for his charade.

"Well, it's like this; is she _really_ my only living relative? Surely I've a great uncle or something out there. Maybe a distant cousin or something?" Harry made sure to leave the end of the sentence open for the Headmaster to insert the answer of 'Yes, you have a set of grandparents!" into the equation.

He was about to finally be told the truth! Harry could see it, feel it. Of course, once everyone got over the shock of the two famous wizards being so closely related, they would be happy for them. Well, not Voldemort nor his followers but they despised both of them enough already.

A quick glance around the table told him that several Order members and Weasley's were curious now, at the pause in the conversation. Tonks was leaning forward on her elbows while Remus cocked his head next to her. Ron's eyebrows were both raised high. Hermione was obviously wringing her hands under the table in suspense. She turned to give him a questioning look that Harry ignored, intent on listening to the man's answer.

"Alas, I am very much grieved to tell you, Harry, that you have none. Your cousin and aunt are the only blood relations of Lily's left. It is possible that there might be some distant relative of James's, but you know very well why a relation of James, especially one so remote, would not be able to keep and protect you."

Disappointment and fury coursed through his veins, each battling for the spotlight. At first, Harry felt the immense sadness that he had felt before when he first learned of their next of kin and figured out for himself that Dumbledore and McGonagall were ashamed of him, just like Petunia and Vernon. In the end, anger about being lied to yet again.

"LIAR!" Harry shouted, standing up so quickly that his chair crashed behind him, causing many at the table to start.

"If you weren't going to tell the truth, you shouldn't have answered at all! I am SICK of all your bullshit lies!" Harry bellowed.

"My boy, I did indeed tell you the truth-" A slightly paler Dumbledore said, his voice a bit more urgent than it had been before.

Harry seethed. "Don't try and go all mind game on me. I get enough of that from Voldemort! I might only be sixteen years old, but I refuse to let you talk me into believe the lies you just told me. I know the truth, _Headmaster_."

Just then, his goblet of pumpkin juice exploded. Shards of glass flew everywhere, once again frightening those sitting near Harry. Somewhere down at the opposite end of the table, Harry heard Hermione give a small shriek.

Taking that as his cue to leave in order to cool off, Harry picked up his chair off the floor and roughly slammed it back into place at the table.

"Excuse me, please." Harry said to Mrs. Weasley, through clenched teeth. He turned and hurried out of the room just as another goblet burst in his wake.

The hurt at being lied to wasn't nearly as great as the hurt at being denied. What was so wrong with him that nobody wanted to be related to him? Well, Sirius wanted to, but that point was moot, as Harry had recently gotten him killed.

_'Maybe they all know what's going to eventually happen to them if they claim me.' _Harry bitterly thought.

When he reached his room, Harry slammed the door behind him and threw himself down on his bed, face first.

A knock sounded on his door almost immediately, but Harry made no move to answer it.

"Harry, I know you're very upset with me right now, but I do believe that we need to talk about this. A wise man once said that leaving off with angry words is often a feat to be regretted later in life once there is nothing to be done about it."

"Fine then," Harry muttered into his pillow. "Come in."

The door creaked open and closed. Silence was plentiful as the Headmaster sat down and waited for Harry to sit up and face him for the upcoming conversation.

When his emotions were under enough control, Harry did exactly that. He pushed himself up with his arms and swiveled around to face Dumbledore, sitting with arms and legs crossed in part defiance.

"Harry, I don't know what I have done to make you think that I would lie to you, but I can assure you that I did not. I have always given you answers as truthfully and to the best of my knowledge or none at all. Your Aunt Petunia and Cousin Dudley are the last remaining blood relatives left of your mother's,"

Never before had Harry felt this much disbelief at once. Not even when the deformed body of Lord Voldemort arose from a gigantic caldron.

"Because, _Headmaster_, I have learned the truth about my relatives. I know for a fact that I DO have other relations of my mother and the fact you continue to lie to me and try to convince me that I do not angers me greatly. You can not blame me for being upset over the lie and for assuming that other things you have told me were quite possibly lies as well." Harry spoke his words very cautiously to make sure that the clarity was good enough for even a toddler to understand.

"Well, Harry," Dumbledore said softly. He leaned forward slightly as he spoke. "You know I lies, but I know that I did not. I can only think of one way to clear up this matter."

Harry quirked an eyebrow. He raised a hand towards his trunk and muttered the parsletongue password. His thoughts were blank as he summoned his phial of veritiserum.

Dumbledore seemed a bit pleased, but he wasn't sure if it was because Harry had caught on to the idea or because he had efficiently brewed veritiserum. The old man accepted the tiny bottle of clear liquid from Harry, who was sure that the Headmaster already had some veritiserum inside his robes but was honoring Harry's disbelief by using his.

"Very well then," Dumbledore said as he uncorked the stopped and clearly dropped two tiny droplets onto his tongue.

A numb sense of foreboding coated Harry's stomach. He waited till Dumbledore's twinkling blue eyes adopted a somewhat dazed look about them to begin his questioning.

"What's you name?" Harry automatically asked.

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

The second question Harry decided should be something harder, something that perhaps Dumbledore wouldn't want to answer therefore the answer would be slightly incriminating, thus, proving the validity of the truth potion.

"Okay, then tell me what you did at the end of term feast my first year at Hogwarts and why."

"I awarded special points to Gryffindor- specifically Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, and yourself- for special services to the school. The reasons why I did it at the feast was quite simple; the students and staff had a right to know who they should thank for the safety of the school, but mostly I did it because I wanted to see you smile."

Out of all of the possible answers that would have made sense, the one that Harry received did not. Why would Dumbledore wish to see him smile enough to anger all the Slytherins at the same time? Also, if he wanted to see him smile, why didn't he just tell Harry that he had a Grandfather and a Grandmother who he already knew?

Harry held his breath as he worded he next question so that there could be no misinterpretation.

"Were you lying when you said answered my question earlier about having other possible blood relations, other than my Aunt Petunia and Cousin Dudley?"

"… No. I told you the truth. To my knowledge, you have no other relatives other that your Aunt Petunia and Cousin Dudley."

The breath that Harry had been holding was suddenly expelled with a "whoosh". How could Dumbledore be telling the truth? The genial potion results had shown him to be directly related to Dumbledore and McGonagall through his mother Lily. Had he made the genial potion wrong?

Just as he was beginning to become distressed, an idea came to him.

"Accio genial potion!" Harry said hastily.

The potion came zooming out of the trunk and landed in his outstretched palm.

"Professor, I wonder if you'd mind testing this for me?" Harry asked, no trace of anger only nervousness.

"No," Dumbledore said, still under the effects of veritiserum. " I wouldn't mind at all."

Harry handed the phial over and explained what it was, even though he though the man already knew what it was.

"See, I brewed this over the summer and tested it. It showed me that I still have blood relatives among the living and well… I'd like you to test it and see if it was correct in giving me the results that it did."

The Headmaster inclined his head, to peer at Harry over the top of his crooked nose and half moon spectacles.

Without another word, Dumbledore waved his wand and produced a large sheet of parchment along with a small medicinal looking knife.

Harry bit his lip as he watched Dumbledore make a small prick on the tip of a finger with the conjured tool. A few drops of blood tainted the stark white parchment. A few agonizing seconds later the genial potion was dripped onto the paper, on top of the blood droplets. Harry lifted his eyes up from the parchment just after the flash to see the expression on Dumbledore's face.

At first, it appeared as if noting had seemed odd to the professor. Then, just as Harry was about to start beating himself up for setting up such a disappointment, Dumbledore's blue eyes shot open in shock. That alone was enough to startle Harry. After all, it was everyday that one got to see the serenely calm and collected Headmaster of Hogwarts unhinged but the exclamation of "Oh holy Merlin's beard!" was enough to put Harry over the top.

Wasting no time, Harry scrambled off his bed to peer over Dumbledore's shoulder. There at the bottom was his name branching off of James and Lily, who was connected to Dumbledore and McGonagall.

A long moment of silence passed with both of them, Harry standing and Dumbledore still sitting there, staring at the parchment.

"Do you think it's all a mistake then or did I botch the potion? Maybe I-"

Harry's ramblings were cut off by Dumbledore standing up, with great quickness for a man his age, and capturing Harry in a hug that was somewhere between the intensity of Molly Weasley and the strength of Hagrid. He wasn't positive but he thought he felt a tear soak the cotton of his t-shirt on his shoulder. Harry squirmed a bit under the strength of his Grandfather, but the grip only tightened as if afraid that Harry would get away.

"No, my boy, you made the potion correctly. It seems that you are finally what I've longed for you to be ever since you were born; my Grandson."


	23. Ecstatically Terse Reactions

**When Nightmares Are a Good Thing **

By Rhiane Raine

Chapter 23: Ecstatically Terse Reactions

"What?" Harry sputtered disbelievingly.

This didn't make any sense to him whatsoever.

"Y-you actually _don't mind_ being related to me?"

The arms that were wound so tightly around his neck slackened a bit before sliding down and pushing gently on his shoulders, forcing him to look Dumbledore in the eyes.

"I am very proud of this discovery, Harry. I regret that I never knew of it all of these years." Dumbledore lifted Harry's chin with two of his fingers, most likely to ensure that Harry could see the twinkling blue eyes that lit up his wizened face. With a perceptive guess, he said "You've been thinking that we knew all along and simply didn't want you?"

Slowly, Harry nodded his head, still yet amazed at Dumbledore's insightfulness. He never had allowed himself to think of the possibility that maybe Dumbledore didn't know. After what had happened in June –Harry, better than anyone- should have known that the man was very much capable of making mistakes. Several times throughout his years at Hogwarts Harry had uncovered old secrets that the Headmaster had not known about. It should really not have come as a shock to learn that Dumbledore hadn't known of their relation.

A moment passed between them in thoughtful silence.

"I believe," Dumbledore considered aloud, "we now have a task at hand that we must complete together."

After mulling Dumbledore's words through his current thoughts, he finally made sense out of what the man was saying but still was confused at the intent. He cursed himself for not paying better attention as he had no idea where Dumbledore was going with this.

"Ah, do not worry. It is not a difficult mission, more of a delight, really… We must tell this news to your Grandmother."

His previous apprehension creeped back in slowly, freezing Harry's insides like a looming late night fog.

Dumbledore's twinkling blue eyes considered Harry for a moment before he suggested fetching Professor McGonagall by himself.

"Right," Harry answered. "I'll, uh, wait right here."

With a knowing smile that annoyed him slightly, Dumbledore left the room and closed the door behind him.

The numbness that he was feeling spread further throughout his body as Harry waited in anxious anticipation. Once again horrifying scenarios and emotions were regarded as he nervously waited for Dumbledore and McGonagall to arrive.

Finally, just as Harry was taking into account that McGonagall might prefer to not be told that she had a grandson- one that was almost sorted into Slytherin at that- footsteps sounded in the hallway.

The door opened softly admitting his Grandparents entrance into his room. When the door was closed Harry discreetly flicked a finger re-issuing the room's privacy charm that he had become rather adept at using lately. Unfortunately for him, McGonagall immediately sensed the spell and looked to her husband.

"Albus, what exactly is so important that you deemed it necessary to cast your strongest domesticus secretio spell?" Her face showed no unusual emotions but Harry could tell that she was truly intrigued and baffled simply by the way she forgot to address 'Albus' as 'Headmaster' or even as 'Dumbledore'. Also, McGonagall usually nodded to Harry in acknowledgment of his presence.

"I assure you Minerva, that while the impending conversation _does_ require such measures of privacy, it was not I who cast them."

McGonagall sighed in exasperation, "Then who did, as it was most certainly not me!"

Dumbledore twinkled in amusement. "Well, the answer to that would have to be Harry as he is the only other person present in the room."

"Harry?" McGonagall looked over to where Harry stood awkwardly. "Surely you are joking Dumbledore."

"Alas, I am not. It seems that our young Mr. Potter has picked up a few new tricks this summer."

"Then we should be expecting an owl from the Ministry any moment!" McGonagall cried in annoyance. "Honestly, Albus. It was hard enough on you last year to help keep Fudge in line. Do you really think you should be _encouraging_ opportunities for Harry to get expelled?"

"Ah, but you will find, as did Harry, that the Ministry cannot detect wandless magic."

"Wandless?" McGonagall gasped, looking at Harry in slight awe.

"Err, it was an accident?" Harry uncertainly answered in hopes of stalling a lecture on magic use during the summer.

Dumbledore chuckled at the exchange. "Yes, well, enough of that. We have much to discuss. Where to start? Ah, yes, the beginning. Minerva, I assure you that you will understand where this is going but it will make much more sense for everyone if we tell the beginning first. You may have to help me explain a bit of this to Harry."

It seemed that, as odd as his head of house found the situation, she trusted Dumbledore- her husband- enough to go along quietly with only a raised eyebrow and a slightly confused expression.

For his part, Harry took a seat in his desk chair while Dumbledore and McGonagall seated themselves at the foot of his bed.

"When I first graduated from Hogwarts," Dumbledore began, "I held a few various jobs. It wasn't until after the time of Grindenwald that I began teaching at Hogwarts.

"During the hard times I found the courage to let Minerva know of my feelings for her. We married less than a year after Grindenwald's defeat."

It amazed Harry at how quickly the tension returned to his chest at seeing Dumbledore embrace her lightly with an arm. He averted his eyes in favor of his shoelaces.

"So," Harry choked out, "What happened next?"

McGonagall glanced at her husband. Receiving an encouraging nod, she turned back to Harry, a demure smile playing on her thin lips.

"Well, we were married. Albus worked at the school while I continued to help my father out by working at his shop in Diagon Alley. He died about forty years ago. The store went to my older brother. Of course, by then Albus had been made Deputy Headmaster. For a few years I continued to work at the store until Albus convinced me to take over as transfiguration teacher so that… well, we'd be closer together that way. Then when Armando Dippet passed away, Albus was made Headmaster and he named me his deputy. That's the way it has remained, with our marriage a secret to all but a select necessary few."

Dumbledore smiled eagerly at him as he squeezed his wife's shoulder.

"Yes. Now that you know the back story, let's move on to the whole point. Minerva's anxious enough, I can tell." he chuckled immediately after his statement at the calmly raised eyebrow that she quirked at hearing her husband insist that she was anything but patient.

Instead of remaining quiet the entire time, Harry decided to speak up and help guide the conversation along. "So… being married, did you ever have any children?" It was funny how he hadn't been embarrassed to ask yet his cheeks flamed afterwards at the idea that he had just indirectly inquired about his professor's- his GRANDPARENT'S! - sex lives.

"We certainly tried," Dumbledore replied immediately (Harry suspected his quick answer was in sensitivity to his wife's and his own embarrassment on the situation), "but it seemed that we were having problems conceiving. Almost forty years ago we finally succeeded. That was a large contributing factor to her coming to Hogwarts. Everything was well until the actual birth."

It seemed very weird to be discussing his mother's birth, especially since he still hadn't quite gotten used to the idea that she was the product of two of his professors. Harry risked a glance at McGonagall to see her feelings on the matter. It seemed that the past still weighed very heavily on her as she had closed her eyes and turned her head to the side. Her sadness Harry perceived as guilt but was at a loss as to why she would feel guilty for the death of her daughter. It wasn't as if she had strangled Lily or anything. Through, Harry brightened a bit at the thought that maybe some of her grief would be alleviated when told the truth.

"- when our child was born it was one of the happiest moments of my life. She was so small and beautiful…" Dumbledore spoke in a wistfully quiet voice. Harry had never seen Dumbledore exhibit so many normal emotions and decided it made a nice change to see his stoically professional teachers displaying feelings.

Timidly, Harry roused the next piece of the puzzle, afraid of causing more painful memories. It was only when he remembered that their pain was only partly justified as their daughter did indeed survive that he found courage to break the silence.

"So it was a she?"

"Yes," Dumbledore smiled. "She was a she with my hair and her mother's eyes. It seemed she was having complication with breathing. The mediwitch, a trusted friend of ours, took the baby to perform a few diagnostic spells in order to find out why she couldn't breathe… when she brought back our child it was too late, she had died."

A sniff came from McGonagall alerting Harry to how painful the idea of her daughter's death must be for her.

"But that can't be right, Professor's. Whose baby was it that they returned to you?" Harry's face twisted in confusion. "If she took your daughter away from your eyesight," he said looking directly into Dumbledore's eyes, "then the child she brought back must not have been yours. She couldn't have been…"

"Do not try to make me feel any better on this subject, Mr. Potter. It has already happened and I do not appreciate you trying to instill unfounded hope in me and further yet-"

"No, Minerva, Harry's right. See, we have discovered something. A very large secret, I might say." He turned from his wife and his eyes twinkled mischievously at Harry. "I think perhaps we should allow her to find out the same way we did, how about it?"

Harry grinned in spite of himself. "I think that would be in order. _Accio genial potion!"_

The potion came zooming from across the room and into his hands as Dumbledore conjured the parchment.

"It's the genial potion, Professor McGonagall. All you have to do is-"

"Yes, yes, Potter, I remember how the potion works but what I _would _like to know is why you are in possession of such a potion and why you think it prudent for me to take it." McGonagall said sternly, her lips forming a very thin line and her eyes narrowing.

Harry swallowed. "Well, you see, I was studying and came across it this summer. I got curious and so I brewed a batch and took it. I wondered if I had made it right as the results I got were… shocking. The Headmaster took it shortly before we asked you to join us and... well, he got the same odd results so-"

"You wish to see if _I_ get weird results? Why, Albus, did we have to explain our most personal secret just for me to test a potion? Wouldn't Severus be a better choice than I would?"

"Minerva, please. Do you trust us enough to believe that everything will make sense once you use the potion?"

His transfiguration professor gave an exaggerated sigh as she reached for the almost empty phial of potion. She didn't look at either of them as she conjured her own sleek dagger and pricked a tiny cut on the tip of a slender finger. She tipped the last remaining bit of potion over the droplets of blood that she had painted the parchment with. Instantly, the colorful lines appeared, connecting the now visible names to each other in many different directions. Harry watched the scrawlish handwriting until every name had been written and connected. He glanced up to see his professor straighten her glasses as she peered closely at the names of her family. Over her shoulder Dumbledore approached, Harry assumed he wanted to be ready to provide comfort. The pit of his stomach was jumbled once again. Sweat formed on his palms and he could feel his heart hammering inside his chest. The moment of truth was on him. How would McGonagall take the news?

A cry pierced his thoughts. He looked away from his trainers in time to see McGonagall drop the parchment and dagger. She turned to Dumbledore, a look of pure shock controlling her face. Never before had Harry seen her look quite that surprised. There had been a few times, such as the time he, Ron, and Hermione had told her in first year that they knew the philosopher's stone was about to be stolen but nothing could top the present look of astonishment.

"Albus?"

Dumbledore merely nodded and opened his arms to her. She uncharacteristically dove into them, crying and shaking with the tears. Guilt plagued Harry instantly at having his relation to them cause such pain to his Grandmother. There was no explanation for it. Silently, so not to disturb them, Harry banished the dagger and replaced the phial in his trunk. He laid the parchment down on his desk next to Dumbledore's. Quietly he tip toed to the door and whispered the spell to unlock the door. He had just opened the door and was about to leave when a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He turned around and was instantly accosted. Arms wrapped around him tightly, so tightly that his breath was expelled from his chest along with an undignified "-urhg!-" that was muffled by a shoulder.

A chuckle came from somewhere to his side. Harry heard the door click shut again as he was pulled back into the room, still yet being hugged tightly. A hand was rubbing small comforting circles on his back, guiding him to sit on the edge of his bed. A good idea, too, it seemed that another moment longer and Harry's legs would have given out on him.

"Minerva, let him breathe, please. It would be a shame to have to allow Poppy to intervene only moments after finding out that we have a grandson."

Harry looked up to see a smile playing on Dumbledore's lips. McGonagall gave him a coy smile as she released her grip on him and gave him a bit of space. She swiped at her eyes and straightened her glasses professionally, though it did not make Harry forget how she had been crying only a few moments before.

"Well, Harry, how do you feel about having a grandfather and a grandmother?"

Harry choked. He stared as he began to realize that this was what was true. He did have grandparents who seemed to genuinely want him. "I think it's brilliant, if you'll have me. I mean-"

McGonagall gave him a piercing look. "Potter- I mean Harry, what in Hogwarts name do mean 'If we'll have you'? You do realize that we spent most of our married lives _trying _our hardest to have a child. Now that we know that we did indeed succeed, we couldn't be prouder of the child that we brought into the world- and of the child _she_ helped bring into the world. Harry… you are something that we have always wanted and to know that you are indirectly ours…" here McGonagall started to cry again. "I couldn't have picked a better young man to discover blood relations between if I had been allowed to choose. Ever since you were born, Albus and I had hoped to be seen by you as a pair of adopted grandparents. I loved you mother as if she were my own."

Then, as if to add to the most uncharacteristic display of personalities that day, she snorted. "Well, it makes sense now to know that she _was_ my own but…the point is, Mister Po- Harry that I am proud of you and have loved you since before you were born. I am simply ecstatic of this discovery."

In Harry's books, ecstatic was the way Ron had sang with glee when Malfoy had been transfigured into a ferret during their fourth year by Mad Eye Moody/Barty Crouch Jr. The smile and tears that shone on his normally stern professor's face was not ecstasy but joy. Then again, for the terse witch, this probably _was_ her being ecstatic.

The next day at breakfast he received some very curious looks from the other inhabitants of Headquarters. Hermione gave him many admonishing looks that showed how disapproving she was for him having been so rude at dinner the night before but Harry was not very worried about it. In fact Dumbledore had waved off his apology saying that he did not blame him for his reaction one bit.

He had gone to bed quite late last night. There were so many things to talk about that him and his grandparents (he was beginning to really enjoy calling them that) had stayed up quite late discussing the various reasons why Lily had been pronounced dead. The most likely event that they were able to come up with was that somehow the mediwitch accidentally switched their child with someone else's. There were still a few things that didn't make sense to them but Dumbledore promised to contact their mediwitch in order to retrieve the full version of what had happened after Lily had left their sights.

For the most part, their relationship was currently a secret until his grandparents were able to learn the full truth on what had occurred. They had all agreed that they should wait to reveal the secret to those they trusted after gathering the facts. Harry knew Hermione well enough to know that they would require more information to satisfy her curiosity.

He ate his breakfast and took his completely unnecessary nutrient potion before he retreated to the drawing room where he was determined to start picking up his exercising habits. He locked the doors and put up a semi strong silencing ward. His push ups and sit ups made his muscles scream in agony yet he decided to add more to his work load. He transfigured a plain, hard, uncomfortable looking chair into a humongous punching bag. He approached the big black bag and poked at it experimentally. The bag, as heavy as it was, wobbled over to one side and threatened to fall on its side. Harry shook his head. No, this wouldn't do. He transfigured the bag back into a chair and looked around the room. An idea came to him and he set about making it work.

Ten minutes later he stood back and admired his work. He had installed a sturdy hook to the ceiling of the drawing room. All he had to do was transfigure the chair every day and then levitate it up to the hook where the punching bag would dangle allowing Harry to have his go at it. The next thing that Harry decided to do was to find a way to obtain a weight bench like Dudley had. Obviously he could not go out and purchase one or build one to leave in the room because anyone to come across it… or could he? With that thought in mind, Harry transfigured and conjured parts and weights to link together by permanent sticking charms. The product was a crude weight bench that he could shrink and hide everyday. Smiling, Harry started his routine over again to make up for the time he had lost being ill.

When he was though with his exercises and weights, Harry could not believe the amount of sweat that he'd built up. He shrugged his shirt off and walked up to the large punching bag. With a decisive flick of his wrist the bag changed from black- as was its true color- to a violent shade of red. Yes, that was much better. Harry found it much easier to take his aggressions out on a red punching bag than he would have an ordinary color. Red was the color of Voldemort's eyes. He swung a wild uppercut at the bag that put a lot of pressure on his wrist upon impact. Wincing at the tension in his wrist, Harry decided that it might be best to wear some sort of wrap or glove.

By mind morning Harry was completely knackered but knew there wasn't much more he could do so he packed away his training "equipment" and unlocked the door. He quickly did cleansing charm on himself to remove the sweat from body before he put his shirt back on.

We wandered back to the sitting room where he found Ron and Ginny immersed in a challenging game of wizard's chess. Hermione, who had a large text in her lap, looked up at Harry as she turned a page. Harry nodded at her as he picked up the extra book that she had set next to her on the sofa and opened it. It seemed that there was a quiet agreement amongst them not to push Harry into speaking of his newest mystery. After the last secret, Harry was sure that even he would be wary of such secluded information as well. Though this time, the secret was a good one. He had grandparents and knowing that he finally had what he'd been wanting all along gave him a new resolve in his struggle against the prophecy. He had a family.


	24. New Resolves

**When Nightmares Are a Good Thing **

By Rhiane Raine

Chapter 24: New Resolves

Now with a new resolve and a clean bill of health, Harry was back in his groove of training his mind and body for whatever he was going up against. Whatever was coming, he felt it was best to be prepared. Dumbledore's advice about not living his life to fit the prophecy was not forgotten nor ignored. In fact, Harry decided that his training wasn't solely about facing Voldemort or surviving death eater attacks. The truth was, Harry was bored with letting things happen to him. All his life he had simply been there while others made his decisions for him, his reaction- provided he gave one- mattered not. Now Harry felt was time to take his life into his own hands. The nagging voice of his subconscious frequently tried to remind him that he might not live much longer and that was the real reason that why he was trying so much harder. Every time this thought occurred to him, Harry only worked that much harder to distract himself from the topic.

His nightmares seemed to have slowed down a bit for the meantime, allowing Harry to reset his sleeping habits. Now he awoke early in the morning and went to the drawing room for his workout before the others in the house even stirred. Then he would clean up and wait in his room, reading and studying until he could troop off to the kitchen for breakfast with Ron. He, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny would disappear to the drawing room to read and study a bit more before lunch. The rest of the afternoon was their own. This unspoken agreement between the four of them meant a lot to Harry, especially since none of his friends had questioned his dedication. After knowing the prophecy, they most likely had guessed the reasoning behind Harry's motives and thought it best not to comment but to lend their support instead. In either case, Harry was grateful.

It was only a few day after Harry and Dumbledore's encounter when Fred and George came to visit for the afternoon. It was past lunch and Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had decided to continue on with their study session. Harry had discretely placed a warning charm on the door to foreworn him should anyone approach. When the spell warned him that they had visitors Harry glanced up at the door to see the twins leaning against the door frame, sharing a look of disgust on their identical faces.

"Do my eyes deceive me, brother?" said one of them.

""I should most certainly hope so!" said the other in a horrified whisper.

"Studying during the summer holidays! I could die of shame!-"

"Were it not for the fact that we're sure that you're doing this against your own will..."

"Yes," Fred or George agreed. "Please tell us Mom coerced you into this."

The twins got on their knees and took Ginny's hands in their own as if begging her to tell them that this was a punishment for something she had done shortly before their arrival.

Ginny giggled as she took her hand back from their grasps but offered no answers other than to close her book and put it aside. Though he had been spending an increased amount of time in her presence, this was the first time Harry had ever really listened to her laugh. It was a sweet, calming sort of giggle that made him smile despite himself. He too put away his book and budged up so that Fred and George could take a seat on the couch.

"Actually, there are some very interesting spells in here," Harry answered mischievously.

The twins perked up at that and began sharing the latest progress of Weasley Wizarding Wheezes. Eventually, Hermione joined in the conversation by asking the twins a question on the recipe for one of their new experimental potions that they were intending to cause a person's hair to become opposite of what it normally was. Harry bitterly wondered if it would be strong enough to cause his black hair to lie flat.

"Now, I can see that you four are in need of some honest to goodness fun-"

"Seeing as you all had resorted to reading books to pass the time-"

"Which is why," the other twin continued. "We are going to play a game."

"A game? What kind of a game?" Hermione skeptically asked, eyeing her book almost longingly.

"Well, we being the cool, suave, party machines that we are-" said the twin which Harry suspected to be George.

"Are going to introduce you to a new game we have only recently thought up but in order to play it requires the use of a pensieve."

"What on earth do we need a pensieve for?" Ron exclaimed. "Those things are supposed to be expensive right? How can you require it to play a game? "

"No, Ron. Not expensive, rare." Hermione sighed exasperatedly at Ron's ignorance. "There are only about ten known pensieves in existence at the moment. It's hard to come by a powerful enough witch or wizard who can create one let alone have the right knowledge or emotions to do it properly-"

"-Wait," Harry held up a hand to hold off his friends from spouting all the information she had ever learned on where the others were located. "What do you mean? Pensieves have to be specially made?"

"Yes, making a pensieve requires a large amount of concentration for the spells and enchantments placed on it to work. See, theoretically, anyone could make one except the charms needed to trap and store memories there for viewing and all that are very hard, I've read. Very few can manage to even understand _how_, let alone create one. I imagine that it is very draining on one's magic and emotions…"

Ginny sat up in her chair. "What do mean about emotions? What's that got to do with casting spells?"

"Well," Hermione continued, "The witch or wizard needs to care about the person the pensieve is intended for. See, emotion is part of how the spells and charms work. They sort of feed off of emotion essentially in order to _store_ them."

At seeing the confused looks amongst her friends, Hermione must have realized that she hadn't cleared up anything so she tried again to explain in a better way.

"When you use a pensieve, you store memories in them, right? Well, when you watch memories you tend to feel emotions, right? That's the main component in memories, emotion. It's how the pensieve works and also why it works. Think of the emotion the maker puts into the pensieve kind of like a battery."

"Blimey, mate, Dumbledore must like you if he put enough emotion into making a pensieve that's strong enough for _you_ to use," Ron said, his eyebrows raised high.

"Yeah," he replied a little breathless. "maybe."

"So have you even tried it yet?" asked Fred.

"Um, no, actually."

"Well come on, then!" urged George. "Run along and get it, we haven't got all day. You lot need a good bit of fun!"

Shaking his head in apprehension at the twin's idea of fun, Harry stood up to leave the room. He could see Hermione biting her lip out the corner of his eye.

"Wait!"

Harry stopped and turned around.

"It's not dangerous is it? It's only that it would be a real waste if Harry's pensieve got ruined on an account of foolishness." Hermione asked the twins.

"Us?"

"Foolish?"

"HA! We've never been foolish, especially not where rare artifacts are concerned," said Fred who winked at Hermione.

With that, Harry turned and left after nodding a look Hermione's way to let her know that he'd take care of it. When he retrieved the pensieve from his room he placed all of the unbreakable charms on it that he knew before carrying it back to the drawing room where he closed the door and placed a slightly weak silencing barrier. It would not do for just anyone to hear what might be occurring but he also didn't want the room to seem too quiet.

"You're really going to let them play with your pensieve?" Hermione asked Harry immediately after he re-entered the room.

Harry looked over to where Fred and George were. Both were smiling but Harry could that they weren't going to play a prank or anything, just have some fun.

"I trust them not to break it. They said we would use it, not play with it. Besides, I'm right here with it so they can't really do anything I'd disapprove of like playing catch with it or something stupid. I'm actually kind of eager to try it out."

"Right, then. Let's get cracking!"

"To understand how to play, you have to know that this is only a protocol of the actual game that Fred and I were trying to invent. See, we were thinking on what our next product should be-"

"-since we had already decided to broaden our stores variety of goods, we thought maybe we'd come up with something that was just fun rather than a jokesters item."

"Yes," George continued. "So we asked ourselves what was something fun that we could expand on-"

"You know, to help people relax a bit in these dark times."

"The answer to that was talking."

"But talking wasn't interesting enough so we decided that story telling was fun, yet boring enough that there was plenty of room for improvement." Fred grinned.

"But you see, we ran into a few snags. We had problems developing a way for our plan to succeed. As of right now, we can still play our game, but it requires a pensieve until we work the bugs out of our temporary product."

"Okay," Ginny smiled sitting up in her seat keenly as Harry set his pensieve in the middle of a small table that was in the center of most of the furniture.

Ron hefted his large overstuffed chair closer to the circle. Then, seeing Hermione trying to do the same, made a big show of picking the chair up completely off of the floor in order to put it next to his own near the table.

Rather than sitting crammed on the couch with Fred, George, and Ginny, Harry picked up his hard backed chair that often doubled as a punching bag and carried it to the circle.

"So!" Ron rubbed his hands together more nervous that impatient. "How do we play?"

"Well, Fred answered. "To begin with I'm going to give everyone… two cards. These cards are called "The Trump Card". We each get two based on how many of us are playing and on how long we will most likely play. These cards can be used at any time that you think another person is lying."

"Why would we lie?" Hermione frowned, obviously not liking the prospect of any type of game that condoned lying.

Both the twins shrugged. They looked at each other mischievously. One of them smirked at her and said coolly, " 'prolly to keep your dignity intact."

"My-"

"SO! The basic idea of the game is to not to embarrass yourself. See, we start by having one person ask another person a question. The person being question can tell the truth or lie. After the answer, the group votes on truth or lie." Here, George paused to wait for Fred to pull a tin of something out of his pocket. "We have taken a leaf out of Dumbledore's book and developed "Truth Drops". They're a perfect blend of lemon drops and a mild truth serum, good to insure the taker to answer only one question truthfully. After the group votes, we give the person who answered the question one of these. The question asker gets to ask that person if they told the truth or if they lied. If the majority vote was correct, then the question asker gets to pick a memory of their choosing for the group to see. At anytime, any one person can use their trump card to overrule any of the usual play in order to see the memory relating to the question. Only catch is, the trump card has to be played _before_ we vote."

"Also, despite whoever played the trump card, the original question asker still gets to pick the memory that the question answerer has to show. Got it?"

They spent a few more moments asking questions and becoming familiar with the rules. Well, Ron, Ginny and Harry did anyway. Hermione seemed more preoccupied with inquiring about the composition of the truth drops. After a while they were ready to begin and Harry was feeling more nervous by the minute.

"Alright!" Fred clapped his hands together. "Who would like to ask the first question?"

"Well, brother, I think that we should allow young Harry that honor as we _are_ getting to borrow his pensieve for the game."

"Too right, George. Harry? Name your first victim!"

"Err…I guess I'll pick…um…Ron."

Ron snapped his head up to look at Harry worriedly. Despite his own apprehension, Harry grinned. He wasn't the only one who was unsure of what his friends were fixing to learn about.

"Okay, Ron. Let's, see. When you put the sorting hat on your head, did it really only suggest Gryffindor?"

"Of course it only suggested Gryffindor!" Ron cried indignantly.

"Lie."

"Lie."

"LIE!"

"Definitely a lie."

There was a round of laughter at how they had all immediately voted the same way.

One of the twins reached over to offer Ron a small round yellow candy. The gangly red head examined it between his fingers for a few moments, only eating it after Ginny threatened to "help" him chew it.

"Did you lie?"

"Yes," came Ron answer.

"HA!" Ginny yelled. "Now we get to see your sorting! Right, Harry?"

Ron looked pale, gulping nervously as the twins urged him towards the pensieve. Harry told him how he reckoned the pensieve worked. Cautiously, Ron lifted his wand up to his temple and squeezed his eyes shut so tightly that his nose and brow wrinkled.

A shimmering stand that looked very delicate was extracted from Ron head and was dropped clumsily into the basin.

Grinning, Fred and George immediately hovered a hand over the pensieve and said, "On three…"

"One, two…three!"

All at once, the six of them prodded a finger at Ron's memory. After the disorientating swirling of colors and the sensation of feeling as if they had all performed somersaults, they all stood in the Great Hall. Though it wasn't nearly as clear as any of the other memories Harry had been in, it was still distinguishable. The corners of the room appeared to have a worn fuzzy look about them, much the way an old photograph would. The others, who had never been inside someone else's memory before, were gawking around at the past. Harry, instead of being floored by the amazingness of the pensieve, was in awe at the sight of his younger self. He had immediately located himself and Ron, standing in line next to each other while awaiting their sorting. When had he ever been so small? So scrawny and… sickly? His clothes, despite the fact that Madame Maulkin had specially sized them to him, seemed to swallow him, though perhaps not as much as Dudley's cast-offs had. His younger self was wearing an expression of what could only be identified as nerves and a little bit of fear. Thinking back Harry remembered feeling very apprehensive about which house he would be placed in.

The voice of his Head of House announcing the sorting rules caught Harry's attention as the first of his year mates were sorted. Just as Harry remembered, the sorting seemed to fly by. Soon, they had watched all the way through to the "G's". Harry heard Hermione's breath catch as the past version of McGonagall stated; "Granger, Hermione!" and the little girl ran eagerly to the stool.

"Were my teeth really that large?" present day Hermione asked the group as she walked up next to where her younger self was sitting down on the stool. Present Hermione's hand was in front of her face feeling at her teeth. Harry couldn't help grinning at Hermione's very uncharacteristic display of vanity.

The six of them watched Hermione's facial expressions as the hat was placed on her hat. It was then that they realized that they wouldn't be able to hear what the hat actually said as it had spoken inside of Hermione's head. The matter was solved as Hermione narrated what was being said and thought.

"Yes, yes. You are a smart one, Miss Granger. You will be an asset to the house you are placed in, but which one shall it be? Hmmm, you most certainly have a strong desire to attest your knowledge as well as learn but you most certainly seem to have enough bravery within you to stand up for yourself. Yes, I wonder which house is best. In Ravenclaw you could learn all that you wish and not be questioned. Should you like to belong there, Miss Granger?"

"I want to be sorted correctly!" Hermione explained that she had thought to the hat. "Put me where I _should_ be, not where I want to be."

"Gryffindor!" The hat shouted instantly after Hermione had finished "thinking" her thoughts to the hat. A second later, a happy looking Hermione slid off of the stool and went to join her classmates at the Gryffindor table.

The twins shook their heads at Hermione who was beaming at having had enough personality and character to have been considered for two of the well thought about houses.

While waiting for Harry and Ron's sorting, they made idle comments on how so and so had changed over the years or, in one case, how a certain potion's professor's hair had _not_ changed. They stopped abruptly when Harry's name was called out.

"Potter, Harry!"

An eleven year old Harry practically stumbled up to the chair as he glanced around at the people around him who had suddenly quieted down and began whispering "Harry Potter!" to each other. The present time Harry scowled as he saw once again all the elbowing and pointing that went on as he had put the hat on his head. Now it was Harry's turn to narrate to the group what the hat was saying to him.

"Hmm. Difficult. Very Difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes- and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting… So where shall I put you?"

Harry watched himself, gripping the edge of the stool, his lips moving just barely as he muttered to the hat.

"What are you saying, Harry? Ginny asked as she walked up closer to Harry, clearly hoping to hear what it was that he had been saying.

"Not Slytherin, not Slytherin," Harry repeated out loud along with his past self.

Though he couldn't tell, he could almost feel Ron raising his eyebrows.

"Not Slytherin, eh?" He related to his friends. "Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on you way to greatness, no doubt about that- no? Well, if you're sure- better be GRYFFINDOR!"

"Wow," Hermione said, her hand on his shoulder. "I think I understand how the sorting hat works."

"What?" Ron sputtered at her. The thought that someone could actually figure out the workings of a mad old hat must have been beyond him, Harry too couldn't help but look at her a bit skeptically.

"What? I'm not entirely certain, but…well, let me hear Ron's sorting first."

Ron was now only four or five more people away from being sorted.

"Man, this is weird," Ron muttered to Harry who nodded in agreement.

"Look at us now, Harry." Hermione said, pointing at the Gryffindor table.

She pointed to the Gryffindor table where a smug Hermione was already whispering to Percy and pointing to the bewitched ceiling. Not far from her sat Harry's younger self- staring up at the high table, still being pounded on the back by the over-enthusiastic Weasley twins, just entering their third year but looking every bit as mischievous.

"Weasley, Ronald!"

Though Ron's sorting wasn't long at all, it seemed to be the most interesting as a green faced Ron dreadingly trudged up to the stool and hat.

"Weasley, eh? Hmm. You seem like a Hufflepuff to me…" Ron translated what the hat had been saying to him. For himself he explained that what he said was, "Yeah, I guess I'll have to stick it out in Hufflepuff then."

"GRYFFINDOR!" The hat shouted the next instant.

Looks of puzzlement crossed all of their faces except for Hermione as they were all gently pushed from the fading memory.

"See?" Hermione excitedly asked. "None of us were actually intended to enter the house that the hat suggests. I think when it is less than one hundred percent sure, it tosses out one of the possible house choices and determines where to put the student by the reaction. Harry, obviously did not want to go to Slytherin. He refused any of the power that he would have been given access to which in itself is a Gryffindor quality. So, the hat put him there. When the hat suggested Hufflepuff, Ron decided he would just have to accept the teasing that he would be given from his brothers and so the hat put him in Gryffindor. His courage to make it work in Hufflepuff is something that only a Gryffindor would do."

"And it put you there for the same reason as Harry. You wanted your sorting to be honest rather than just accept all the knowledge and study aides that being in Ravenclaw would have allowed you." Ginny said, having caught on.

"How did you know that I was worried about being teased if I got placed into Hufflepuff?" Ron demanded.

"It's obvious, Ron. Anyway, it's your turn now."

"Alright," Ron rubbed his chin. "Let's see…I pick Hermione."

The game continued in that fashion for a while with memories of each of them being shown. The only problem was that rather than play by the game rules they seemed much more interested in taking turns bullying each other into showing memories. Not ones to follow rules, Fred and George started just getting their victims to simply show them a memory that interested them.

"Okay, so Ginny, the memory I want most to see," George laughed, "Is how you got out of trouble with Mum that time that she caught you trying to fly Bill's broom in the house."

A hearty round of laughter rang at the idea of a young Ginny trying to maneuver a broom inside the Burrow.

"Alright," Ginny said with a smile that seemed mischievous to Harry.

Several minuets later they came out of the pensieve laughing as much as they had going in.

"That was brilliant, dear sister!" Fred praised.

"Yes," George agreed. "Who would have thought that the youngest Weasley would have been smart enough at age four to not only steal her eldest brother's broom, but to fly it… in the house!"

"Yeah, and to think to tell Mum that it was her fault that you felt you could get away with it!" Ron pitched in.

"Well, it was. She told me that the only time I would ever be allowed to fly was in familiar surroundings and while in her presence! It's not _my_ fault she didn't notice me zooming around the kitchen until _after _I'd broke that vase. She really should have been more observant. I could have flown right out the window and she never would have known."

"Yes, well I do believe that's part of the reason you didn't get punished was because that cut on your finger scared her half to death. Honestly, flying directly into a vase full of flowers!" Hermione scolded but the value of it was lost by the smile on her face.

Ginny laughed for a while longer but then sobered a bit. "I pick you, Harry, but I need you to show me a memory that you probably won't want to."

Instantly Harry knew what she was about to ask. The lost look in her eyes was the same as the night that he had rescued her from the Chamber of Secrets.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded. "I- I need to see for myself what happened while I was…lying there."

"What are you two talking about?" Ron asked exasperated at being kept in the dark.

"Ginny wants to see my recollections of the night we went into the Chamber of Secrets," Harry said his green eyes not leaving Ginny's brown ones.

"WHAT?" The twins exclaimed.

"Do it, Harry." Ginny said. Her face was full of sincererity and resolve. It really was something she needed to know, needed to see. Harry completely understood. If it had happened to him he would feel the same way. If someone had memories of the night his parents died, Harry would want to see what had happened. He knew the need that she felt. Without a sigh or a doubt, Harry pulled the pensieve towards him and closed his eyes. He thought very clearly on all the events that had taken place that night, from sneaking away from Lockhart in the hall all the way to leaving Dumbledore's office, weary and injured. He deposited the very long, dark, silver strand into the basin. When he looked up at Ginny she had moved over to his side. She was clutching Ron's hand and looked a bit nervous.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Gin Gin?" Fred or George said in a surprisingly gentle voice.

"I have to," Ginny said simply as she reached a hand towards the pensieve.

Soon the rest of them had reached out and they all touched the surface. The dropping of his stomach told Harry to open his eyes. There he was, watching as twelve year old versions of himself and Ron convinced Lockhart to allow them to go on to the next lesson alone.

"Whoa!" Ron said as he stood next to himself. "I've grown a bit, you think?"

His rhetorical question went unanswered as they all had move to along with the past versions of themselves.

"Where are you two going?"

"What time of the day is _this?"_

"Did you two just persuade a teacher to slough off his guarding duties?"

"Yes," Harry said rather hotly. "We had to get rid of Lockhart so that we could go talk to Myrtle! This is the afternoon of the day that we went into the chamber."

They followed behind themselves until McGonagall approached them.

"_Potter! Weasley! What are you doing?" she barked._

Harry watched the grin slid right off of his twelve-year old face as he realized they'd been caught.

_"We were- we were-" Ron stammered. "We were going to- to go and see-" _

_"Hermione," said Harry. _

"But I was petrified! It does no good to talk to a petrified person! Surely McGonagall's not stupid enough to fall for that!" Hermione exclaimed. Harry caught Ron grinning at him for they both knew what happened next in this adventure.

_"Of course," she said_. The glimmer of a tear was still in her beady eye, just as Harry remembered it.

Hermione's jaw dropped.

"HA! Nice one, Harry."

"Yes, worthy of Weasley merit!"

_"…Tell Madame Pomfrey I have given my permission."_

_"That," said Ron fervently, "was the best story you've ever come up with."_

"I dunno 'bout that anymore. You've gotten pretty good over the years." Ron insisted as they followed themselves to the Hospital Wing.

_"There's just no _point_ in talking to a petrified person," _Madame Pomfrey said, making Hermione smile.

"So that's how you two learned about what was in the chamber!" said a twin moments after Harry and Ron had pried the piece of paper out of Hermione's hand.

"Yeah, you got it from Hermione. I'll have to remember that trick, might come in handy someday." said the other.

_"Ron, this is it. This is the answer. The monster in the Chamber's a basilisk- a giant serpent! That's why I've been hearing that voice all over the place, and nobody else has heard it. It's because I understand Parseltongue…"_

The trip down the corridor to the staffroom was taxing for the others but for Harry it felt good to be able to run in the wide open corridor. He felt…free again, almost like he felt when he was in the air on his broom.

The group of them skidded to a halt when Harry and Ron's past selves reached the staffroom.

Standing outside the wardrobe the group of them heard the same dialogue that Harry and Ron had eavesdropped on when they were twelve. Ginny Weasley had been "snatched" by the monster. Hermione and the twins issued snorts when they heard Lockhart's declaration of going to get ready.

"Yeah, right! We already know what he's going to go do."

"Yeah, leave!"

"Coward," Hermione said causing Ron to give her small smile that went completely unnoticed.

It wasn't until they had followed themselves down the piping that lead into the chamber that things started getting interesting for Harry to watch. His earlier awe at his size at a younger age had returned stronger as he watched his twelve year old self troop through the cave-like undergrounds with a determined expression on his face. It was strangely eerie to be looking at himself much like the others around him did but he couldn't deny that his twelve year old _looked _brave as he stepped over the fifty foot snake skin. Harry knew better, though. He knew exactly what he had been thinking and how he had felt. The worry that he wouldn't reach Ginny in time was still fresh on his mind even after three years.

_"What now?"_ Ron's voice said, sounding desperate. _"We can't get through- it'll take ages…"_

_"Wait there. Wait with Lockhart. I'll go on… If I'm not back in an hour…"_

Harry swallowed as the group of them followed his younger version to where Ginny was going to be.

"I'll give you all a fair warning. This might be a bit disturbing to watch. It was for me when I witnessed it anyway."

"Thanks mate," Ron said, meaning it. He grimly nodded before following the twins and Hermione into the main chamber that twelve year old Harry, visible shaking, had just opened by parsletongue.

It was as he remembered it. Dark, damp, and very dim. There she was. A small eleven year old Ginny Weasley lay on the wet stone ground, her bright red hair spread over various puddles of murky floor, staining the youthful innocence that she seemed to emit.

A small, soft hand slipped into his own as he gazed at the unconscious Ginny. Harry looked to his side to see Ginny standing there gripping his had as she too looked upon herself, lying there helpless.

"Ginny," Ron whispered as he knelt down next to his memory sister. His hand touched nothing as he tried to stroke Ginny's pale cheek.

_"Ginny!" _Harry heard himself say as he sprinted to where she lay. _"Ginny- don't be dead- please don't be dead-. Ginny please wake up." _He had said this after flinging his wand aside and was shaking the youngest Weasley in hopes of her waking.

At the same time that Harry heard himself begging Ginny to be alive in an oddly wavering voice, Ginny's grip on his hand doubled and her other hand found it's was to his forearm so that his entire left arm was being used by Ginny. Not that he minded at all. Instead of feeling irritated, Harry found a foreign comfort in having Ginny there by his side as they both faced down an old demon that had been weighing in on them for some time now.

The rest of the memory flew by. Harry watched in a daze, the shocked exclamations of Hermione, Ron, Fred, George and Ginny stinging his ears. Just as he remembered, he saw himself fend off the basilisk wearing the sorting hat. He heard rather than saw Ron wince as the Sorting Hat dropped Gryffindor's sword on top of his head. Ginny's grip on his forearm was deathlike as the battle for their lives carried on. When his twelve year old self had finally managed to drive the sword into the roof of the snake's mouth, Ginny wrung his arm so tight that he couldn't hold back a gasp of pain. Luckily, it went unheard as the others had just gasped at the sight of the basilisk fang piercing his arm.

"Oh, Harry…." Ginny whispered as she took a tentative step towards where the past Harry had fallen, good hand yanking the fang out of his forearm.

The silence in the room was startling to Harry as they all watched Tom Riddle tell Harry he only had a few more moments to live. The rest of the memory went by in an inky blur. He had brushed by death many times before but there was something about watching himself almost die that made him feel sick. His face was pale and dirty with grim from the chamber. If he hadn't known that he had already lived through this, he would have guessed that he was a goner. Just when he didn't think he could take standing there, looking at his past self, pale with exertion and poison, Fawkes saved the day. Though Ginny was still clutching his hand, her fingers had loosened around his arm. Harry looked at where their hands were intertwined. Ginny sighed softly. She released his hand but not his arm. Instead, she pushed up the sleeve of his shirt in order to look at the soft scar that remained from the horrifying events she had just seen. A finger traced along it, a ripple of slight shivers forming in its wake. Harry lifted his eyes to find her watching him closely, a few tears trickling down her freckled cheeks in the darkness. Harry stared at her face for some time before he raised an arm to wipe them away. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, when he was pulled from the memory.

Silence was all that could be heard from the drawing room for at least five minutes. Hermione too had cried at some point for there was a dried trail along her cheeks as well. Ron was close at her elbow, Harry noticed, as they stood around the pensieve still a bit dazed from the intensity of the memory. Hadn't they known that he had almost died in that memory? Hadn't they heard all about the basilisk attacking him? They most certainly had known that Ginny had almost died as well. What was it that had shocked them? The biggest question on his mind was why _he_ was so weirded out by it all. Ginny was the only one who should be this disturbed. He especially needed to get a grip on himself.

Before anyone could even come close to being ready to talk about what they had seen, footsteps sounded in the hallway. Hermione hastily swiped the back of her hand over her face to remove the evidence of her tears. The twins shook their heads a bit to shake off the shock while Ron cleared his throat.

"You lot need to come to the table for dinner, and I mean now!" Mrs. Weasley shouted through the door.

Obediently, they all rose silently and made their way to the basement kitchen.

It was a very unusual dinner that night at Grimmauld Place. It seemed the adults knew that something was wrong between all of the teens, but nothing was said or done apart from Molly placing a hand over Ginny's forehead and claiming that she looked very pale.

It was agonizing for Harry to sit at the table and watch all the Order members exchange looks of concern while his friends picked at their plates, heads down and not a trace of their normal appetites. When it was clear that Mrs. Weasley could not force any of them to eat another bite, she dismissed them all with a look of concern. Fred and George apparated back to their flat after giving Ginny a crushing hug, a firm handshake with Harry, and a wave to the rest of those gathered.

"That was rather odd behavior from them, wasn't it?" Tonks asked out loud. Mrs. Weasley shot her a look that Harry took to mean that they were all acting out of the normal but did not challenge it. Instead he trudged up the stairs to his room where he intended to reflect on the memory so that he could get a full night's rest as he would definitely be up early the next morning in the drawing room, working out his feeling by aid of his punching bag.


	25. Reflections of Red

**When Nightmares Are a Good Thing **

By Rhiane Raine

Chapter 25: Reflections of Red

Harry being a normal human being, found it very difficult to even pretend to still be sleepy after a nightmare like that. The memory of the Chamber of Secrets must have triggered something deep in his subconscious. His dream had been of various past events thrown into one big, terrible nightmare. It was barely past midnight but Harry crept to the bathroom, in need of a refreshing shower to take his mind off of the vivid details of his dream. Since it was the middle of the night, there was no rush to get to the bath or limit on how much time and hot water he could use.

Instead of heading back to his bedroom, Harry trekked down the stairs in his pajama pants- hair moistly tousled and his most recent Weasley sweater (it had been the first shirt-like clothing that his hand had grabbed in the dark of his room) hanging limply in his hand by his side, body still too warm from the shower to smother himself in extra articles of clothing. When he reached the drawing room, Harry stopped dead in the doorway. Ginny Weasley was already there, curled up at one end of the couch. For a moment that seemed to have been frozen, Harry simply stood there, watching the flames in the fireplace bathe the youngest Weasley in firelight that danced brightly across Ginny's face. The way the flicker of the flames danced a story in scarlet red was mesmerizing, when one was staring at the vibrantly colored hair of a Weasley. The bright orange hue that Weasley's hair usually seemed to be was different. Here in the dark- excepting for the fire that shone waveringly about the room- Ginny's long red strands seemed to be darker, reflecting crimson and tiny bits of ginger much like the light does when glancing off of a stained glass mirror.

The many reddish shades of Ginny's hair were all that Harry could see for a moment as he stood there in the doorway, his hair dripping gently onto his shoulders every once and a while. After what must have been five or ten minutes, Harry realized by the stiffness in his legs that he'd been standing there for a while. He shifted slightly and cringed when the unfamiliar floorboards creaked underneath him. Ginny's head snapped around to see what had caused the noise. She sighed in relief at seeing Harry, who grinned sheepishly at Ginny for having scared her.

Ginny turned back to the fire having said nothing. Harry was just about to turn and go thinking that perhaps Ginny wanted to be alone with her thoughts when she said softly, "Was it Tom?"

Startled, Harry walked a bit closer to the couch.

"What do mean? Tom?"

"Nightmares," Ginny said simply.

"Oh. No. No it wasn't Tom. Not tonight."

"Oh."

Still slightly mesmerized by the look of Ginny Weasley in the fire light, Harry jumped when Ginny quietly asked he was going to sit down.

For a long moment, neither of them said anything. Together they simply sat there, enjoying the fire and thinking the thoughts that were keeping them both awake.

"Was it Tom?" Harry asked. If she had thought to ask Harry if Voldemort had been giving him nightmares, then maybe she had had one, resulting in her own insomnia.

"Yes," was all the answer he received.

Harry looked over at her. "You get them often?" he asked seeing that she didn't look practically unnerved by it.

"Just memories of the chamber and sometimes a warped version of how things could have turned out, you know, if you hadn't of saved me. Sometimes you…"

"Sometimes I what?" his curiosity was piqued.

"Die," Ginny whispered. She hugged her arms around her legs even tighter in her little spot on the sofa.

At that moment the only thoughts Harry had were of ways to make Ginny more comfortable. Without even realizing it, Harry had presented Ginny his Weasley sweater to make her warmer. It was when she put it on that Harry was slightly embarrassed at having done something like that without thinking about it. The red head smiled mildly at him when the jumper swallowed her whole. The arms bunched up around her tiny wrists leaving only from her knuckles down exposed. Were she to stand Harry thought the article of clothing would reach mid thigh. Emotion poured out of a dam inside of Harry. She was so small, so beautiful, so…innocent looking that Harry suddenly felt as if he would do anything to protect her, anything to see her smile. This was why he was suffering like he was. To save her and all the others like her from having to experience what he himself had to go through to achieve peace.

"Harry?" Ginny asked questioningly.

Harry smiled at her, his new thoughts about her were very confusing but he was happy just to sit and look at her for now. He'd figure out his feelings later.

"Yeah?"

"If it wasn't Tom…"

He cleared his throat and glanced away. "It was just a few recollections of my past. Yeah, I guess it was Tom, in a way. He was the one trying to steal the Sorcerer's Stone. He opened the Chamber, and he's the evil dark lord who came back to life in a graveyard. He also…"

Across from him Ginny nodded in understanding, a pink blush stretching across her cheeks at having been caught staring at Harry's bare chest. He too blushed as he remembered that he'd come down here after a shower, not dressed properly as he hadn't been expecting anyone else to see him

They lapsed in silence once again. He was thankful that she wasn't going to try to get him to say that he was dreaming about bad experience that still haunted him as anyone else would have tried. Instead the peace between them was soothing him in a way he hadn't ever felt before. It was simply comfortable to sit on the sofa with Ginny, no words required. Every now and then one of them would offer a thought on what they were thinking, the other giving a reply. Not all of the talk was serious. Some of the things were actually quite silly. Once Harry had interrupted the silence to ask Ginny if she thought Snape practiced his glare in the bathroom mirror as a morning ritual. She had replied that he most likely made himself do "death stare drills" at night and even mimicked him.

…"One hundred thirty three…one hundred thirty four!" all the while glaring into space for a moment before relaxing her features. Suddenly she would narrow her eyes and count higher. Harry laughed so hard at her impression and the image of Snape doing just that, that he rolled off of the couch with his sides aching from his laughter. Ginny joined in too after finishing with number "Five hundred!" Both of them would smile and laugh unexpectedly at odd moments after that.

He was beginning to see how nice it was to be in Ginny Weasley's presence. She never forced him to speak of anything she knew he was uncomfortable with, but yet she urged him when he needed help getting certain things out in the open.

At one point, Ginny was giggling at something Harry had just said. A strand of her long red hair had slid from her shoulder into her eyes. Harry reached over and brushed it away. His hand stroked her cheek as he swept it back. Her laughter stilled as she looked back at him, both staring into each others eyes. The moment was thankfully broken as Ginny shivered.

"Are you still cold?" Harry asked. He was confused as to how she could be so cold in the middle of summer, sitting in front of a fire while wearing a large sweater.

"Oh, um, well the chamber nightmare always leaves me with the chills."

That made much more sense as Harry knew exactly what she meant. His own dreams had the same effect from time to time. He always woke up shivering in a cold sweat after the graveyard.

The rustle of Ginny's arm moving across her bare legs to create friction drew Harry's attention to the goose bumps that were present. Feeling as if he were about to dive into very unfamiliar territories, Harry stretched his arm out as he arranged his features into a look of sincerity. Surprisingly, Ginny scooted over to him. She fitted perfectly under his arm with her back against his chest. They sat like that for a while until Harry's back got stiff. Gently he leaned back against the armrest of the sofa, surprised that she went along with him rather than tense up.

It was odd enough to be half lying on a couch in only his pajama pants with Ginny Weasley resting against him wearing his Weasley sweater but when the thought stuck him that he had somehow managed to do all of this without making her mad or Hermione having to tell him how, it became surreal. Wasn't it only February when he hadn't even known whether or not he was supposed to hold Cho's hand or not? But tonight, with Ginny, he had accomplished much more without even meaning to. It wasn't until _after _he'd already done it that he even realized that he had wanted to. The change was unbelievable. Had he matured without knowing it or was it just easier to be with Ginny.

Neither of them went to sleep during the early hours. Instead they continued speaking of this and that as they had been, the only change was their new position on the couch that enabled them to touch.

Dawn set before their very eyes, brilliant shades of pink streaked the highlighted morning sky while the stars grew faint and hard to distinguish. The fire still crackled comfortingly as they watched in awe of the beauty before them. Harry had seen the sun rise many times before but for some reason this sun rise was the most beautiful out of them all.

"What time do you reckon it is?" Harry asked as he shifted the arm that Ginny lay against.

"Dunno," she replied while leaning up to allow him some circulation. "but I think we ought to get back into our beds before someone wakes up and wonders. I like to avoid the questions about what kept me up all night."

"Yeah," immediately Harry agreed. It was never fun to explain it to someone who didn't understand nightmares. The looks of pity were never welcome either. Not to mention the fact that Ginny had several family members in the house that would beat him to a pulp if they were caught lying together on the couch in their current state of dress.

Together they departed from the comfortable room and tip toed their way across the house, pointing out to each other spots in the floor that would make noise. When they reached the doors of their room, Harry's luck at knowing what to do seemed to have run out. He was certain that he should say something sweet or at least polite but no words came to mind. After keeping a girl warm all night were you expected to make some sort of a gesture or did Ginny not think it necessary of him? Hermione _had_ said she was over him but…

He was spared from his moment of indecision, thankfully, by Ginny.

"I'll return your jumper sometime when it's not keeping me warm, if that's okay."

He couldn't help but grin. "Yeah, it was the first shirt I grabbed after I took my shower. Feel free to it. Right now you need it more than me anyway. "

There was an awkward moment of silence where both of them stood there, hands on their door knobs, neither making a move to suggest staying or going. Finally, Ginny sighed and disappeared behind the door to her and Hermione's bedroom.

Harry stood there for several moments after he heard the door click shut. Finally, he opened his own door and entered his own room. It wasn't as if he could sleep now but standing outside of the girls' room was not a good place to be found in the wee hours of the morning with only half of his clothes. Instead, of sleeping Harry took this time to write down last nights dream into his journal. He opened it up to where he had left off the last time he'd had a strange dream. Thoughts of the conversations he'd had with Ginny kept popping in, interrupting his writing. Several inkblots adorned the pages before he's finished. Since when had Ginny not been shy around him? Since when had _he_ been comfortable enough around her to offer his arm and clothes in order to keep her warm? It was very confusing to Harry, a completely new territory in which he knew nothing about. His first instinct was to talk to Hermione but a nagging notion at the back of his mind told him not to. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't want anyone else to know about he and Ginny's newly found friendship. Ron would most likely jump to conclusions and accuse Harry of fancying her. Yes, he couldn't have Ron thinking that. A warm blush crept across his cheek despite telling himself that just because Ron would think that didn't make it true. Even still, Ginny had moved on from him AND Michael Corner. If what she said on the train was any indication, she had her eyes set on his Gryffindor roommate, Dean Thomas.

When he finished documenting his dream, Harry made his way back to the drawing room in order to practice his exercises. Since he wasn't as sore as he tended to be, Harry added a few repetitions and even did a few laps around the room. He was good and sweaty when he finally finished. It was also a bit later in the morning than when he usual finished. Casting a cleansing charm over himself, Harry transfigured his pajama pants into some weak muggle jean that imitated his pairs upstairs. For a shirt Harry found a handkerchief in one of the desk drawers that he could turn into a plain white tee shirt. Of course it first had to be scourified for safety reasons but it worked alright. It was a bit small seeing as its size had previously been only a square foot.

Mrs. Weasley was cooking dinner at the stove when Harry walked into the basement kitchen. Mr. Weasley sat at the head of the table drinking his coffee while reading the Daily Prophet. Tonks was the only other person in the room, looking far too perky with her lime green hair.

"Morning, Harry!" she sang.

"Morning," Harry mumbled back.

Mrs. Weasley looked over her shoulder at him and smiled.

"Good Morning, Harry dear. Did you sleep well?"

Harry chocked on the coffee he had just poured for himself.

Mr. Weasley raised an eyebrow at him from over his paper while Tonks leapt up to help only to fall down, adding to the commotion.

The pounding that Mrs. Weasley issued to his back helped him to swallow his gulp of coffee but only caused more concern at the need of such an action.

"What is the matter?" she asked, alarmed.

"It was hot, the coffee, I mean… It's hot."

"Yes, it usually is." Tonks said while getting up from the ground. "Otherwise, it tastes like rubbish."

Nodding like an idiot, Harry wiped his chin hoping against odds that Mrs. Weasley had only asked how he slept out of politeness. He must have been lucky because her unanswered question was forgotten, replaced by the sizzling of the bacon. Molly turned away from Harry and pointed her wand at the bacon and levitated it all to a platter on the table. In order to avoid making the situation any worse, Harry joined Mrs. Weasley in preparing the rest of the meal. Since the morning he had cooked breakfast, Mrs. Weasley had slowly adapted to Harry cooking or helping with bits of the meal preparations.

Throughout breakfast Harry kept shooting looks across the table at Ginny in hopes that he might be able to tell whether or not she had shared her night with Hermione. It seemed that she had put it far from her mind as her behavior was completely normal.

His own behavior must not have been up to par because Hermione asked him, as he was reaching for the coffee pot, if he was feeling alright. He assured her that he was fine but Mrs. Weasley had rushed over in the instant she heard that another person shared opinion on Harry's health this morning.

"I _thought_ that he was looking a bit peaky this morning. Poor dear," she fussed while covering his forehead with her hand. "I'm sure Poppy wouldn't mind popping over for a quick check up. Severus was supposed to bring round another batch of Harry's nutrient potion's today but surely she could bring them in order to-"

"What!" Harry nearly shouted. He scooted his chair away from Mrs. Weasley hastily. "Snape doesn't know their mine, does he?"

"Well, of course he does. He doesn't usually brew such a specific potion on a normal basis in such large quantities so he had to be clued in. He would have insisted to know why he had to make excess nutrient potion and bring it to Headquarters even if he had been told that it was for a private reason. Or worse, he could have refused to brew it without an explanation!"

The hand was back on his forehead as the other felt his wrist for a pulse. He wrenched his wrist away from her as gently as possible but he could not shake her hand on his brow.

"But he knows that I'm taking a nutrient potion!" Harry exclaimed, wildly looking around for someone else who understood. Ron shrugged his shoulder like he was sorry but knew there was nothing to be done about it now. Ginny smiled reassuringly but it did not reach her eyes.

Harry sighed. If Snape wanted to cast snide comments his way about something at least now they would be true. Now instead of comments about his arrogance and late night rule breaking, he would tell all the Slytherins about how the famous Harry Potter was so weak that he had to really on a nutrient potion every morning.

He was brought out of his thoughts by Mrs. Weasley's statement, "I think you might have a fever Harry dear. You're awfully warm!"

"No! I mean, I'm fine. I feel perfectly normal, thank you!"

"Nonsense! We bought that line the last time, Harry Potter!" Mrs. Weasley said. Her voice was slightly raised, causing Harry to lean back in his chair as she straightened herself up and pointed a finger at him warningly. "You have to earn our trust back, Mister. If you want us to believe you when you say you are fine, you must say so when you are _not _fine. Do you hear me Harry James Potter? I suppose you could very well be fine right now but after you told me you were fine the last time, I don't trust your word on matters of your own personal health. Now, you march yourself upstairs to your room this instant and Poppy and I will be up soon enough!"

To say Harry was shocked at being on the receiving end of Mrs. Weasley's temper would be like saying Neville Longbottom was nervous in Snape's classroom. Had he really just been lectured in front of everyone at the breakfast table for lying about his health?

"Go on, get moving!" Mrs. Weasley ordered. "And I'd best not find you doing anything other than resting in that bed!"

Nonplussed, Harry stood up and cast a rather helpless look at Ron in hopes of an out. His friend gave him a wide eyed looked that plainly said that he too was a bit stunned that his mother had just chastised his best friend.

Harry sighed. There wasn't much else to be done. He simply walked away from the table and started towards his room. Rest indeed!


	26. Late Night Rendezvous

**When Nightmares Are a Good Thing**

By Rhiane Raine

Chapter 26: Late Night Rendezvous

Waiting was the worst part of anything, Harry decided. It wasn't so much that he couldn't entertain himself for the time that he was to be contained in his room but that he was almost afraid that anything he did would be construed as "strenuous". Sense when did Mrs. Weasley yell at him? He did feel fine! Harry agreed with her that in the past he had falsified his health but this time he felt fine. Did he not look fine?

Harry sighed. From now on he would have to pay more attention to how his face looked before going into public. If he'd have made use of his new morphing abilities he wouldn't be where he was currently…in his room…alone and bored, waiting on the school mediwitch to assess his health yet again. What made it worse was that Snape knew that he was on nutrient potions! From what Ron had told him, nutrient potions were the equivalent of the muggles chewable vitamins for small children. Judging by the taste Harry assumed that some sort of flavor _was_ included in the original product otherwise children would never drink them willingly.

His thoughts were interrupted by Ginny opening the door to his room. Harry instantly sat up on his bed. He didn't notice his right hand jumping to his hair in an attempt to smooth it down as he was peering at the small red head through the half open door.

"Psst, Madame Pomfrey just arrived. You'd better make sure you're resting!" Ginny whispered loudly.

"I am resting!" Harry said, indignantly.

"Shhh! They're on their way up!"

With that, the door was closed quickly and hurried footsteps lead away from his room. As quickly as Ginny had fled the scene, two more set of feet could be heard marching towards his room.

Harry flung himself backwards on his bed and arranged himself to look casually rested, even closing his eyes for good measure. The door opened and in came Mrs. Weasley and Poppy Pomfrey, both with a look of determination marking their faces. He opened one eye to see them looking down at him from either side of the bed and could only pray that he wasn't about to be scolded to death.

"Well, well, Mr. Potter," began Madame Pomfrey. "It appears that yet again this summer you have ignored the advice given to you as well as your body's needs. Let's see how much damage you have managed to inflict on yourself _this_ time."

Harry gulped as Mrs. Weasley walked around to the other side of the bed and sat down on the edge.

"Mrs. Weasley, Madame Pomfrey, I know in the past I've said I was fine when I wasn't but this time I really do feel fine! Honest!" Harry pleaded as the nurse began waving her wand over him, all the while muttering charms and exclaimations over his health.

"Not another word, young man!" Mrs. Weasley interrupted his last ditch plea firmly, "You lied about your health- yes, lied! that's what you call it when a person deliberately tells you the opposite of the truth! - and became so sick that immediate care was needed. Now you will suffer the consequences. Until you are able to asses you own physical needs and health, Poppy and I will do it for you. For too many years you have been allowed to abuse yourself; falling off of broomsticks, battling basilisks and dragons. Harry," she paused to place a gentle hand on his forearm. "I don't think you are able to recognize when you aren't feeling well. For so many years you have been allowed to shove it aside and you paid no attention to your hurt so that now, well, you don't feel it half the time these days."

As much as it hurt to hear his best friends mother tell him that, Harry knew it was true. One of the things that he had learned from living with the Dursleys was that nobody cared about Harry's pain. Now that Mrs. Weasley had said it aloud, he knew he couldn't deny the validity of her statement.

Harry sighed but said nothing to confirm Mrs. Weasley thoughts. Instead, he turned to look at Madame Pomfrey who was muttering a great deal less while waving her wand about a great deal more. It was only another awkward moment later when she too sighed and sat down on the edge of his bed.

"Well, Potter-"

"Harry."

"I beg your pardon?"

"It's just that, you've seen me naked numerous times. I think it'll be okay for us to be on a first name basis don't you? Haven't I already asked you to call me Harry instead of Potter?"

"Just because you ask does not mean you will receive, Harry. And to be completely honest with you, calling you Potter makes our "rendezvous", as you called them, seem a bit more forbidden. Got it Potter?"

Harry smirked and replied cheekily, "Whatever's good for you."

This time Madame Pomfrey blushed as she turned away and began digging in her medical bag.

Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat quietly as Harry smiled in his victory at having gotten Poppy to blush first.

"Anyways, back to your health P-"

It seemed that the nurse was about to call him 'Potter' but decided against it. Harry smirked again at having eliminated all of his possible names from Madame Pomfrey's vocabulary.

"Yes, well. Interestingly enough you have lost body mass. You have successfully gained weight but yet you are smaller than you were before. I noticed this when I assessed your ulcer but this new ailment has become more pronounced since then."

"What!" Harry cried indignantly. He had been working out and to him, he had grown a bit!

"Don't look at me like it's MY fault! You _have_ been taking your nutrient potions, correct?"

"Yes! Every disgusting one of them!"

"I can verify that," Molly spoke up. "I have watched him swallow it every morning!"

"Well, the one thing I can say for you Po- …The one I can say for you is that you have a higher percentage of muscle versus body fat compared to the last time I saw you a few weeks ago. It's actually rather alarming, how you could have transformed so much of your natural body fat into muscle in such a short amount of time." Pomfrey fixed Harry with a piercing stare that made Harry feel very uncomfortable.

In answer, he shrugged his shoulders while scratching his head. Mentally, he was making plans for replicating Dudley's weight bench so that instead of simply slimming down what little body fat he had into toned muscle, he could add some muscle to his physique.

"Should we maybe up the dosage of nutrient potions?" Mrs. Weasley suggested sincerely.

Though Harry was fervently shaking his head "NO!" Madame Pomfrey agreed to have Snape make an addition batch of potions for Harry so that Harry could begin taking them in the mornings as well as at night.

Harry thumped his head back against his pillows. Snape was going to not only provide him with nutrient potions, but with double the amount that he had begun with originally.

"Is there some way we could please leave Snape out of this? Do you know how much ammo we're giving him to hit me with? It's going to be really bad once school begins!" Harry implored the two witches.

"I'm sorry, but there is no one better to brew this particular potion that Severus Snape," Pomfrey replied. "Most people who attempt to brew this potion end up boiling away most of the nutrients that it is actually intended to have. I'm really am sorry though, Harry."

"Besides," Molly pitched in, "you'll be twice as strong as you are now after you finish taking them, Harry. Don't you want to fill out the bones you have?"

Harry shifted awkwardly at the implication that his skeletal structure was bigger than he actually was. "Not if it means that I'll be artificially healthier. I want to get bigger naturally, not because of some potion I've been taking."

"Well then, I will bargain you a deal, Mr. Potter," Madame Pomfrey said, her bag in her hand. "If you take the nutrient potion as I have prescribed you for the rest of the summer, once school starts you may stop taking them and we will discuss other options for your health and fitness. Deal?"

"Deal!" Harry jumped on it instantly. Not only did she not mention refraining from exercising currently, but it gave him an excuse for continuing his current schedule once school began.

Mrs. Weasley pressed her lips together in slight disapproval but said nothing as she followed Poppy to the door.

"You lay there and rest, young man! You are to do nothing but rest today. You need sleep, that much is evident!"

So that was how Harry found himself. Alone, in his bedroom at number twelve Grimmauld Place with nothing better to do than read "Hogwarts, A History" and flip through his two photo albums. Lunch and dinner were both brought to him via Mrs. Weasley who had also checked in on him no less than twenty two times during the course of the day.

Not only did Harry find himself looking forward to the next day when he would be allowed up, but he was also anxious to put his new plans for a weight bench into action.

One of the downsides to resting all day in bed was that it made it very hard to sleep that night. Sure, Harry felt tired enough but dropping off was suddenly difficult for him.

Just as Harry was about to resort to his backup plan (dreamless sleep potion) he heard a soft creak outside his door. Harry sighed and laid back in bed, assuming Mrs. Weasley was back to check up on him for the twenty third time. Quietly the door opened and closed. A moment later he felt a gentle dip on the edge of the mattress.

"Harry? I know you're awake."

Confused, Harry rolled over to face Ginny Weasley.

Sitting up, Harry asked, "What are you here for?"

"Well, I figured you might want some company now that Mum's gone to bed. If you would rather be alone…" with that she stood up and began making her way towards the door.

"No," Harry insisted quickly. "It's just…I thought you were your Mum coming to check on me again. I don't mind the company at all."

"Good," Ginny smiled as she sat down next to Harry on the bed and tucked her feet up underneath her legs. "Truth is, I want to repay you for yesterday. You know, for showing me the memory and then staying up with me."

Instead of pretending that it hadn't been that big of a deal, Harry accepted her thanks.

"So, uh, I see you've still got my Weasley sweater."

"Oh, yeah," Ginny admitted, while looking down at it. "Sorry, I was going to just bring it back to you but it smells really good and I was a bit chilly on the walk over here. This house is entirely too drafty for its own good."

"Well, it is a Weasley sweater," Harry pointed out.

They sat there for a moment, the darkness settling around them until Harry reached over and lit one the lanterns on his nightstand. Once again Harry watched the light from the flames dance across Ginny's crimson colored hair.

Hypnotized, Harry reached over and fingered a long strand that was splayed over her cheek before gently pushing it back with the rest of her hair.

"I like your long red hair, Ginny. It's so beautiful, especially in the firelight." Harry said softly.

Even though the room was still semi dark, Harry could see the blush that stained her cheek and knew that she could also see the redness in his own face.

"Thanks, Harry. You know," Harry looked up at her in time to see the grin that stretched across her face. "I have always liked your hair. There's just something about that…how was it that Ron described it? Oh yeah, the 'I just rolled out of bed with my best mate's girl' look. It's very attractive. I'd say that your hair without the rest of you could _still_ attract half the females at Hogwarts."

Instead of volleying a witty comment back at Ginny, he choked. Harry knew she had only said what she had so to embarrass him, but it was a shock for him to hear. He decided that she had won that round of who could embarrass the other more. He wanted to die as Ginny kneeled close to him so that she could rub his back a bit until he was able to function properly without hacking and coughing so much.

"Better?" Ginny asked when he had calmed down. She had not yet moved an inch, her hand still spread out against his back.

"Yes," Harry whispered as he realized just how their faces were. The memory of Ginny's birthday kiss came back to him as he stared longingly at her soft lips. That kiss had been so delicious that Harry recognized now that he wanted nothing more than to taste it again. He leaned in just slightly and paused wondering if she felt the same way. Harry held his breath as he waited for her to pull away.

For a moment Harry's heart fell from inside his chest down to the bottom of his stomach when he saw her move. Her arm came up to thread into the back of his hair. Did he dare? Harry's eyes lifted from Ginny's soft lips up to her eyes only to find they were looking down at his lips.

Harry would have taken a deep breath as he gathered his courage but since he was only an inch away from Ginny's face he simply leaned all the way over to her.

He let his lips brush hers before settling against them. It was every bit as good as he could remember. Harry's heart was soaring as he swept his bottom lip across hers as she kissed back.

Unwillingly, Harry slowly pulled away a few moments later.

"Ginny?" Harry murmured only to be interrupted as she pulled his head back to hers for another amazing kiss. Every thought of questioning the actions was drove out of his mind as he participated in the kiss eagerly.

Boldly, Harry used his tongue to trace Ginny's bottom lip as he caressed it between his own. It was a surprise to him as the redheaded Weasley's tongue met his own. The sensation was so new to Harry that he couldn't believe such enjoyment could come from this activity. Ginny's lips stroked his slowly before departing with a soft smack.

"I never gave up on you, Harry." Ginny said quietly as her brown eyes starred intensely up at him. "Ever since I saw you that day on the platform…The scrawny, scared boy, who was polite to everyone but seemed so…hurt. Yet, you were so brave. I didn't even know you yet but I could tell that you were a brave, gentleman who would be an amazing person to know someday. I wasn't wrong, Harry. I got to know you better and each year improved my opinion of you."

"So what made you stop….erm…?"

"Pursuing you?" Ginny laugh softly. "Well, after the Yule Ball fiasco, I offered Hermione some advice concerning my dear sweet brother, Ron. It's been a gradual process but hanging out with me has had a positive effect on Hermione, I think. Her hair looks great, as you noticed."

"It didn't look bad before," Harry replied truthfully.

"No, it didn't and you're really sweet to say that. The point was that she gave me a piece of advice concerning you."

"And what was it that our friend Hermione told you?" asked Harry, curiously.

"She suggested that I not appear to be so interested in you. She seemed to think that the only way things would change was if I tried moving on and retreated a little bit."

"It worked," Harry nodded his head. "You definitely have my attention now."

Ginny smiled at him. "Well, you've always had mine." With that she ran her fingers through his hair, effectively ruffling it up.

"So, what happens now?" Harry quietly asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious with a beautiful redhead running her fingers through his hair and looking deeply into his eyes.

The fingers in his hair paused as Ginny said, "What do you mean?"

"Well, I like you Ginny. I really like you a lot. I think you just admitted to liking me back so…" Harry trailed off.

"What do you want out of it?"

"Would you be my girlfriend?"

"Of course I will."

"Good."

"Good."


End file.
